


the 298 000 km fuse

by Love_Me_Dead



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Cancer, Growing Up Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-04-18 01:54:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 52
Words: 157,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4687991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Love_Me_Dead/pseuds/Love_Me_Dead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Normal lives aren't like Hollywood films and some boys are massively interested in explosions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ignition

**Author's Note:**

> I have legitimately so much to say and that's half the reason I've chosen to make this a chaptered fic instead of posting it in two giant parts like I originally intended. I've worked on this fic for over a year and I have to say I'm so absolutely proud of it and I'm so excited to start sharing it with you. This fic is loosely inspired by The Fault in Our Stars by John Green, but it doesn't come in for a while and you'll have tonnes of warning before it does.  
> Also a quick apology to any and every Australian out there because this is set in Australia and I'm from west coast Canada but I really did try my best. Feel free to correct me on anything.  
> Endless thanks to my beta, Tiana, I owe the title and the entire concept of the thing to you. Also, I will explain the title at the end, I promise.  
> I'll be updating on a Monday/Thursday schedule, twice a week because this has a lot of chapters. This is already completed so there's no worry of it being abandoned.  
> Also I swear Ashton is a part of it he doesn't come in for a while but he's there okay I promise.  
> Enjoy!

Michael met Luke when he moved into the house across the street, arriving in a blue sedan with his mum and dad and his brothers and a big moving truck behind them. Michael didn’t mean to stare, but he was really more interested in the moving truck than the family, because it was something that they didn’t have in the neighbourhood, and it was from a company called Dynamite Moving and had a big picture of a stick of dynamite on the precipice of exploding, the wick shooting off cartoonish sparks. (And of course, he was a ten year old boy. Explosions are massively interesting to ten year old boys.) But he guesses the smallest boy thought he was staring because he looked at him shyly and a little anxious, and then waved.

Michael waved back, because his mum would be cross if he didn’t, then turned back to copying the truck’s awesome symbol onto his driveway.

The boy’s mum came over and knocked on Michael’s door, and he watched her as he paused in his drawing in favour of listening in. His mum suggested that Liz’s kids play with Michael, to get them out of her hair while they moved in and set things up, and she could make Liz and her husband coffee if they wanted. So Michael got an impromptu playmate, or three, for the day.

The older two boys, Jack and Ben, opted for the swing-set and shade in the backyard while Luke joined Michael on the driveway, carefully stepping over the spiralling, twisted mess that was the dynamite’s fuse so he didn’t smudge it. Once he was kneeling on the ground with Michael, scraping his knuckles intermittently on the concrete, he reached over and plucked the red chalk to make himself a firetruck. They drew together in silence for a while. Michael didn’t know what to say to the new boy, and he guesses Luke was probably exhausted after a long day of moving, which he imagines would be very tiring, since he gets tired of picking up his stuff every day, let alone packing up a whole _house_. Still, when Luke’s chalk turns into a useless little nib, Michael rolls a (relatively) new stick over, and Luke sends a beaming smile back at him.

Michael bonds with Luke over sidewalk chalk and Star Wars and then they sit in the basement, drinking lemonade in turn too strong or too weak that was originally powder packed into a plastic container. They talk about their friends, or Luke’s old friends, and school, when Michael promises he’ll keep him company because he’ll be the new kid this school year.

Over the summer, they become friends. On Christmas Day, Luke runs over before Michael leaves to go visit his grandma for Christmas, euphoric, and tells Michael that his parents got him a kitten. It isn’t until Boxing Day when his mum leaves him in Luke’s family’s care to go shopping that he gets a chance to meet the fluffy kitten. Luke happily tells him he’s named the kitten Pancake, because her fur is kind of creamy, “Like a pancake!”

When they go back to school, Michael introduces Luke to Calum, who’s really kind of his only friend, but together, they make three friends and he’s kind of really glad Luke moved here.

 

Michael is thirteen when he’s supposed to be noticing girls, because Luke and Calum are, but he isn’t. At their most recent sleepover between terms, Luke and Calum had a lengthy conversation about the girls in their grade, and the women on Michael’s mum’s magazine, but he mostly just sat on his bed and twiddled his thumbs. He wondered if there was something wrong with him, because he didn’t think that the women were like, hot. He thought that some of the girls in their grade were attractive and that a lot of the women on the magazines were pretty, even beautiful, just not hot.

He notices his friends noticing, watches Luke’s cheeks flush whenever he talks about a certain girl in their class and he watches Calum’s eyes follow them when they pass, because now they’re starting to wear tight pants and their hips are starting to fill out. Michael doesn’t do any of that and he hopes his friends don’t notice.

Late at night, after his mum has gone to bed, Michael turns on some film to have as soft background noise while he played video games on his (well, he says his, but it was technically his mum’s) laptop. The film turns out to be interesting, though, and he finds himself liking the supporting character a lot more than the two leads, who were being overly dramatic about their love. About halfway through it, it’s revealed that the supporting character is gay and Michael’s heart nearly stops.

_Oh._ He thinks. _Fuck_.

The thought sticks in his mind, as much as he tries to force it away, and it keeps him up at night. He spends so much time trying to figure out if he _is_ and he doesn’t really know what to do.

“What’s wrong?” Luke asks as fall is starting and they’re sitting in the backyard on the swing-set. They didn’t want to sit on the ground and they didn’t want to be inside, so they spent time pretending to be little kids again on the swings.

Michael flashes him a bright smile. “Nothing’s wrong. Just thinking.”

Luke narrows his eyes. “About what?”

He shrugs. “I was watching this movie the other day, by accident, and it had this gay character in it.”

“Oh,” he says. “That’s kind of cool.”

Michael feels immediate relief wash over him. At least one of his best friends wouldn’t hate him if he does turn out to be gay. “Yeah, I thought it was, too.”

With the knowledge that Luke (probably) wouldn’t mind if he were gay, his thoughts of figuring it out are less frantic and more ponderous, which he thinks is a really dignified way of saying confused. He’s able to sit himself down, think about it without his mind wandering to worrying about what his friends and peers would think and instead focus on himself. By the start of winter, he’s pretty sure he’s worked it out and he’s both terrified about it and kind of proud of himself that he’s different.

Michael is gay and the first person he comes out to is his mum on a Sunday at dinner, where it’s just the two of them as usual, and he just blurts it out, flushing dark red once he’s said it. She wraps him up in a big hug and kisses his head and tells him she loves him, no matter what and no matter whom he loves and he nearly cries. He almost regrets it later when he gets a new and improved version of the talk, all about how AIDS is an awful risk and he should always know and trust his partner and always, always use a condom, no matter what. It’s possibly the most awkward fifteen minutes of his entire life.

The second time he comes out is at a sleepover across the street at Luke’s house, curled up in a blanket and chatting after watching some crappy movie Luke sneaked out of his brother’s room. There’s a lull in the conversation and he pounces.

“So, can I tell you guys something? Sort of serious?” Michael asks, pulling the blanket tighter around him. Even if they toss him out, he only lives across the street and he can crawl in his bedroom window.

“Your parents are already divorced,” Calum says. “What could be worse?”

Michael smiles at him, remembering briefly when he was seven and his parents split up. “Uh,” he stalls, staring down at his feet. “I’m, uh, gay. But don’t worry, I don’t like, like either of you two.”

Luke smiles and wraps his arms around him. “That’s cool. You’re still my best friend.”

Calum, sitting on the floor, just smiles at him and nods in agreement with what Luke said.

“Uh, how do you ask a girl out? Bad time to ask…” Luke chuckles as he stays cuddled into Michael.

Michael laughs. “Well, I don’t guess I’ll ever know.”

Calum shrugs. “I dunno, I think you just kind of have to do it, you know? Get her alone and do it.”

Luke nods and his cheeks flush. “I want to ask Olivia out.”

Michael pets Luke’s hair, because it’s kind of soft and the tension in his body fades when he starts doing it. “Good luck.”

“Just remember, bros before hoes,” Calum says with a chuckle.

“Of course,” Luke nods.

Michael feels relieved, because he’s out to the most important people in his life and all of them took it with smiles and hugs, instead of the awkward glances he expected. He’s glad it was sort of just a part of the conversation instead of becoming the conversation, and he’s elated that they didn’t feel the need to ask any questions about it or accuse him that he was too young or not sure because he’d never been in a relationship.

They fall asleep that night, Michael and Luke together on the bed because Luke never really let go of him after he came out and it’s the first time Michael sleeps all cuddled up with someone. It’s not like they’re skin to skin and they have different blankets, but Luke’s arms are around his middle and they’re close and it’s really, really nice.

It takes Luke almost until the end of the term to pluck up the nerve to ask Olivia out and nearly every day, he promises that _today_ will be the day he does it and then he just ends up talking with her. The day Calum and Michael nearly force him to do it, his hands are shaking and he’s mildly perspiring, and Michael wonders if anyone’s ever felt that way about him. He wonders if he’ll ever be asked out and is faced with the disheartening reality that he might not find anyone for a long time. He doesn’t know anyone else who’s gay.

Luke comes back after ten minutes of being gone, when Michael and Calum have started wondering if Luke got rejected so bad he ran off somewhere, too ashamed to talk to talk to his best friends. But he comes back with a bright grin and the news that he has a date with Olivia on Friday and they’re going to go to the movies and get ice cream and Luke is planning on taking her for a walk to see the ducks. Calum gives him a high-five and Michael claps him on the shoulder, glad that he got what he’s been wanting but with a bitter feeling in his stomach.

On Friday, after school and before his date, Michael goes home with Luke to help him get ready, because he’s so nervous and Luke doesn’t want to wear his school uniform on his first date. They finally decide on an outfit before Luke combs his hair into place and he looks great, but nothing like himself, really. And he’s just noticed a bright red zit on his forehead and he keeps trying to put his hair so it’ll cover it, but it just looks awful.

Eventually, Michael suggests they snoop in the bathroom through his mum’s makeup collection for some cover-up, because it should work on Luke as well and makeup could be for boys too, especially in an emergency situation like this. The result isn’t what either of them expected. The makeup is too dark on his skin and ends up a bright orange hue, which… yeah. It isn’t good and it leads Luke to nearly have a breakdown in the middle of the bathroom, because he has to walk to the movies himself, and he’ll have to leave soon.

They find that a dab of foundation on the zit covers both the redness of the zit and the orange colour of the cover-up. It doesn’t quite look like his skin tone, though, but Michael promises him over and over as he tries to blend it into his skin that she won’t notice, she’ll probably be nervous too and she won’t notice a thing.

Luke leaves, upon checking for the fifth time that he has his wallet and he’s got his phone. Right before he leaves, he looks over at Michael with wide, anxious eyes and asks if it would be okay if he calls afterwards, in case something goes wrong. Michael grins and gives him a reassuring hug before he tells him that it would be _fine_ if he were to call him afterwards, even if everything goes according to plan, because Luke is his best friend and this is his first date, ever.

Once he’s gone, Michael is alone in his house for a while and he doesn’t really want to leave yet, because he feels kind of sad. He sits and has a little cuddle with Pancake while he wonders why he’s so sad. He narrows it down to the fact that Luke is out somewhere, hanging out with someone who isn’t him and going on a date with a girl.

Immediately, he shuts that thought down. No fucking way. He doesn’t have a crush on his best friend because he promised him, promised him and Calum, that he wouldn’t crush on them in case it ruined their friendship. And he doesn’t want to like Luke that way, he doesn’t want to be that friend that sits there and feels jealous whenever he mentions his girlfriend, but he can’t help but be sort of jealous. He convinces himself when he gets up to go, covered in Pancake’s fur, that he’s not jealous of Olivia getting to date Luke, he’s just jealous of Luke having a date when that won’t happen for him for a long time.

Michael goes home and changes out of the clothes that are carpeted with cat fur and flops down on the bed with the phone, even though he knows Luke won’t be home for a few hours and they could, and probably will, meet in Michael’s front yard. He’ll recount the details of the date without revealing too much, or anything too personal about Olivia, and Michael will be happy for him. He decides, lying there on his bed, that he’ll just try and live vicariously through his friends until he gets a date.

It isn’t until after dinner that the phone rings, displaying Luke’s home number and he answers quickly.

“How was it?” He asks, warmth in his chest.

“It was… perfect,” Luke sighs happily. Michael can imagine him lying on his bed, the same as he’s doing, and just staring at the ceiling. “She held my hand in the movie and I made sure to open the door for her and stuff when we were going for ice cream and we chatted and we both got kind of cold, but it was okay because that meant we held hands more. And then we kissed when we fed the ducks and, like. Oh my God.”

Michael laughs, even though the warmth is being extinguished with a bitter colder feeling. “Are you two official?”

“I think so? She said she really wanted to do it again and kissed me again when I walked her home but I’ll ask her tomorrow or something.”

“Aw, Lukey’s got a girlfriend,” he singsongs.

Luke laughs. “Yeah, I maybe sort of do.”

Michael digs his teeth into his lip, because he wasn’t supposed to do that and he isn’t really sure what else to talk about.

“I’m really, really happy,” Luke admits softly and Michael can hear his smile, can hear the breathlessness in his voice and he can feel how bad this will end up.

“Yeah?” He asks, just to get Luke talking.

“Yeah. She’s like, so pretty and she’s really smart and she’s funny, too. And I kind of thought that it would be a lot of us just like, looking at each other and blushing but it wasn’t. She was really confident and it was beautiful.”

“You sound like a shitty poet.”

“Shut up,” he laughs. “Don’t rain on my parade.”

Michael chuckles, chest warm again as he gets Luke laughing. “Too late.”

“Ugh, you’re the worst,” he groans, faking exasperation even though Michael knows he’s still smiling, all big and goofy. “But, hey, I’ve got to go. I have to shower and stuff. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sounds good,” Michael says. “Goodnight.”

“Night.”

The line clicks off and Michael tells himself over and over that he’s only jealous of the fact Luke has someone and he doesn’t.


	2. 295 464 700m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a little later than i thought it would be! sorry about that friends!  
> shoutout to my beta Tiana way to do some math for me  
> Enjoy! xx

Over the next few weeks, Michael slowly adjusts to the idea of Luke having a girlfriend and he reminds himself that if he were straight, or even bisexual, he might also have a girlfriend. He reminds himself that the ache in his chest isn’t because Luke is in a relationship that doesn’t involve him, but it’s because Luke is in a relationship at all.

Slowly, Olivia joins them for lunch more and more often and it’s so awkward the first time she comes around, because Michael doesn’t know what to talk with her about and Calum obviously doesn’t want to offend Luke. (It also stings a lot when they kiss each other but he doesn’t think about it too much, lest it manifest into Something.) They learn how to have her as a subgroup in their friendship, but as she gets more comfortable around them, she flirts with Luke a lot more and usually it snowballs into them giggling together as Calum and Michael try to talk to each other and eat their lunch.

“Bros before hoes” as Calum requested of Luke is a promise he doesn’t break, though there are times Michael is left wondering the specifics of it, and whether or not it counts shamelessly flirting in front of your two best friends as an offence. They still see Luke as often as they did before he started dating Olivia, but he talks about her most of the time and Michael isn’t sure how to bring up old conversation topics without it being awkward. He isn’t sure how to back track to what they had before Olivia came around and Luke took up the fulltime job of Being her Boyfriend.

They’ve been dating for two months when Luke comes over to Michael’s, late on a Saturday (but he isn’t sleeping or anything, he’s casually clicking through Facebook) and knocks on his window. Michael pops out the screen and helps Luke climb in, ignoring how his heart pumps a dizzying toxin to his brain as he holds onto Luke’s hands. They sit on his bed together and Michael gives him a blanket, because it’s winter and it’s pretty cold in his room.

“Can I tell you something?” Luke asks softly, wrapping his blanket around himself as Michael shuts his laptop and puts it off to the side.

“Of course,” Michael murmurs. (His mind races to figure out _what_ and he comes up with one option that sticks in his mind: he’s breaking up with Olivia.)

“I think I’m in love with Olivia,” Luke whispers.

Oh.

He doesn’t really have a response to that. “That’s great,” he says, mustering up as much optimism as he can. “Does she feel the same?”

Luke lets out his breath. “I don’t know. I just… I really, really like her a lot. Is it too early? Am I too young?”

Michael offers a reassuring smile, wrapping his arms around him (it feels nice, but this isn’t about him). “No, of course not. You should tell her, okay? The worst that could happen is she doesn’t feel the same yet.”

“But what if she breaks up with me?”

“Over you being in love with her? I doubt it. She always looks absolutely gone for you, Lukey.”

Luke relaxes in his arms a bit. “We’ll go on a date, then,” he smiles, starting to verbally plan it out.

Michael plays with his hair while he talks, nodding and telling him that’s a great idea in all the right places, all while his heart feels cold and the pumps the feeling down to his legs. _He_ wants to be in love and he wants someone to be in love with him, even though he’s still really young and honestly, he thinks that Luke is the anomaly in this situation. There aren’t very many kids at their school who are in relationships or going around professing their love for each other, so, yeah.

He should really stop being jealous of his relationship because he knows it’ll happen for him one day. One day he’ll find a boy and he’ll fall in love with that boy and he’ll forget all about that time when he was thirteen and he was jealous of his best friend’s relationship. He’ll find a boy who will make him want to buy flowers, like Luke is saying now. He’ll find a boy who will make him as mushy as Olivia has made Luke.

“And then, I’ll tell her,” Luke concludes, sighing happily.

“That sounds like a good plan,” Michael hums, lying down again and Luke adjusts, cuddling up close to him. (Michael wonders if he’s done this with anyone but him before and his chest feels warm as he realizes he might be the only one Luke cuddles with like this.)

Luke nearly purrs when Michael combs his hand through his blond hair, cuddling closer. His chest is almost on fire and he bumps his chin against the top of Luke’s head, the urge to kiss his forehead nearly overwhelming, so he settles for brushing his lips against his hair as he cards through it. It’s warm and relaxed and they’re both happy and a little bit sleepy and Michael thinks he doesn’t want anything other than this moment.

“Can you stay tonight?” Michael asks. They’ve done this a couple of times before, sneaking in the other’s window and having impromptu sleepovers, and sneaking back home before their parents noticed.

“Hmm,” Luke hums. “I’m like, half asleep already.”

Michael reaches down and pulls the blanket over them, knowing he should probably put his laptop somewhere else, where it has less of a chance of being kicked to the floor by two teenage boys, but he doesn’t really want to pull away in case Luke doesn’t cuddle up to him again. He realizes before he falls asleep that this time, they’re closer than they were last time. They’re under the same blanket this time, and Luke is curled into his chest and it’s warm and cozy and he doesn’t think he’d mind if the boy he falls in love with in the future was just like Luke and cuddled just like him.

 

He hears all about Luke and Olivia’s date after it happens and Michael can’t help but smile because Luke is so _cute_. He talks quickly, bursting to get it out, and his tone is bubbly and happy as he recounts Olivia beaming as she told him she loves him too, and he’s got these half-finished poetic sentences about her hair and her smile and her eyes, but he can’t finish them with eloquence. Michael finds it so fucking endearing and he wants to bundle him up in a blanket and cuddle with him again.

He expects that his warmth towards Luke is just because Luke is happy, and Luke is his best friend so of course he’ll be happy for him. His feelings are secondary happiness from all of his friend’s happiness, even though there’s still that warmth in his chest whenever Luke smiles at him and maybe his heart flutters every so often when they’re together, but it’s not really like it means anything. He’s just happy because his best friend is happy.

The months pass, though, and the fluttering doesn’t go away, even when Luke comes over in the early evening crying because he and Olivia got into their first fight. The warmth even intensifies whenever they cuddle together and fall asleep together (which happens once more before that school year is over).

It isn’t until Michael is telling his mum a story of that day at school that he’s shaken with the reality that what he feels towards Luke isn’t purely platonic.

“It sounds a bit like you have a crush on him,” his mum says, quickly putting a forkful of mashed potatoes in her mouth to hide her grin.

He blinks, shaking his head. “No, I haven’t. I don’t have a crush on Luke,” he chuckles, because how could he?

She just raises her eyebrows as they finish dinner, and he’s quick to change the topic.

It isn’t like there are so many romantic comedies about best friends falling for each other, so many dramas about it being one-sided and the completely awkward, shamble of a friendship that’s left after one of them admits their feelings. It isn’t like Michael wishes his life could be like the first one, like that Taylor Swift song about the boy being too blind to see who’s best for him in the end. It isn’t that at all.

He doesn’t like Luke like that. He likes Luke like he would like a brother, if he had one. He likes Luke the same way he likes Calum, except with maybe a soft affection because he sort of introduced him to their town and Luke stuck around instead of branching off with other, cooler friends. He doesn’t like Luke in the way that those romantic comedies and unrequited love dramas talk about. It’s not like he’s fascinated by the colour of his eyes, or the way his hair falls over his face, or the way he shows off his teeth when he smiles and the way his eyes crinkle.

 _Fuck_.

With the crushing realization that he’s definitely infatuated with Luke, he goes to his room right after he’s done eating and sits there, overcome with the realization that he could potentially ruin everything. Michael could ruin their friendship if he were to give off too much of a hint or tell Luke about his crush and then Luke would just hang out with Olivia all the time, leaving him and Calum behind.

The worst part is, Michael doesn’t have anyone he wants to gush to about his crush other than Luke fucking Hemmings, who’s the reason for his goddamned crisis in the first place. He groans softly into his hands, wondering what Calum would say if he told him about it and he realizes that it would be a poor decision. Calum can’t keep a secret to save his life and by the end of the day, he would’ve told Luke and then he’d be back to ruining it. He can’t do _anything_ about this crush because it’s a crush on Luke and he knows for a fact, one hundred percent undisputed, that Luke does not feel the same and probably never will.

He doesn’t have anyone to tell about his crush and that’s half of his frustration, not just being infatuated with his best friend who’s really more of a brother than the first person he’s had a serious crush on. He always kind of imagined having a crush on someone, in the ideal situations, where he meets a wonderful boy with bright blue eyes and a dopey grin, and they become friends and he melds into their group. And he tells Luke and Calum about it and they encourage him to ask the boy out, just to try, and the boy blushes and nods and says yes and they fall in love.

But instead, of course, Michael developed a crush on his best friend and he can’t tell Luke and Calum because then it would ruin like, everything ever and he’d be friendless and lonely.

Michael decides to approach his crush with the mentality that if he ignores it for long enough, it’ll go away. They have a whole new school year soon, so there’s a chance for that boy with bright blue eyes and a big dopey grin will show up (though he _aches_ because he feels like he’s already found him). So when the three of them meet up at the park in one of the last weeks of Christmas break, he decides to just act towards Luke the same way he does to Calum and hope that it cures him.

They kick around a soccer ball for a while before they get too hot in the sun and they collapse underneath a tree, sweating a little and Michael pushes his hair off his forehead. He’s starting to hate his hair, honestly. It’s thin and the summer sun, and how much he’s been out and about with Calum and Luke, has bleached his hair into a brighter shade of blond and he’s just generally unhappy with it. While they’re sitting there, sipping bottles of Coke they bought at the convenience store across the street, Michael wonders for his friends’ opinions.

“I’ve been kinda wanting to dye my hair for a while,” he says as a kid shrieks from over at the playground.

“Oh yeah?” Calum asks, recapping his Coke and dribbling the soccer ball between his fingers.

Michael nods and Luke scoots over, peering comically at his hair. “What colour were you thinking?”

“A luscious black like me?” Calum teases, pretending to flip hair over his shoulder.

Michael laughs. “No, no way.”

“Brown? Like, more natural?” Luke asks, not as teasing as Calum, softer.

He shakes his head. “Nah, I was thinking something that’s like, bright and unnatural. I mean, if my mum will let me.”

“Hmm, maybe bright red?” Calum suggests.

Michael shrugs as he considers it but Luke reaches out and takes a lock of his hair into his fingers, his fingers drifting through it and Michael wants to just lean over and cuddle into him, let himself be on the receiving end of one of their warm cuddles. He stays still, lets Luke inspect his hair and keeps his face trained into one of indifference instead of the mushy, big grin he wants to let out.

“I think you’d look good with blue,” Luke says, smiling and letting go of his hair.

He nods, taking a sip of his Coke. “Yeah, I like that. Blue it is.”

Luke reaches up and ruffles his hair, grinning widely, and in that moment Michael realizes that trying to shunt his crush to the side is futile because Luke will always matter to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think with kudos and comments (especially comments)


	3. 295 306 900m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so looking through the chapter it seemed really really short and i'd rather post a little more than a little less so hey a slightly longer chapter! whoo! enjoy!! xx

When he gets home, parting ways with Luke, he takes a cold shower to cool down and wash the sweat off his skin before he inspects his hair in the bathroom mirror. He wants to dye it so bad, but the decision is, in the end, his mum’s, even though he thinks that it’s kind of wrong that a decision about _his_ body depends on his mum. He sits next to her, watching a few minutes of whatever’s on before it cuts to commercial.

“How were your friends?” She asks, giving him a smile that screams maternal fondness.

“Good,” Michael says. “Uh, I kind of want to dye my hair? If that’s okay with you?”

She looks at him, scrutinizing him, he thinks, for any signs of obvious teenage rebellion. “What colour?” She asks.

“Blue.”

She softens, smiling at him. “Blue sounds lovely.”

Michael beams, leaning into her because even though he’s not a typical teenage boy, it’s still weird for him to cuddle with his mum. She kisses the top of his head and tells him to do his research on hair dyeing before he does anything and she promises to buy the dye for him; though she quips that it comes with the knowledge he owes her a house when he’s grown up and obviously rich and famous.

He spends that evening doing research on how to properly dye hair and bleaching it and everything and by the weekend, he’s spending time ordering blue dye and he has plans for the next weekend to dye it. The next weekend is fun, because he gets to see himself white-blond and then bright, electric blue by the end of the afternoon and even though one of their towels has blue stains on it now, he’s so, so happy.

Michael grabs a beanie, one of the ones he can stuff all his hair under, and goes across the street, even though it’s warm and the hat is making him sweat a little, but he really wants to show Luke, since he’s the one who suggested the colour and everything. They didn’t really discuss the shade of blue, though, and it’s ended up this side of electric blue, but he thinks that’s also probably because it’s fresh.

Knocking on the door, he notices the blue sedan is gone, which usually just means Liz or Andy is out. He doesn’t get a response, though, and after knocking again a few times, he assumes that Luke is home alone and he’s in his room, listening to music or something. Michael is once again grateful for Luke’s bedroom being on the ground floor, and walks around the house to his room, nearly tripping over the hose left out as he finds Luke’s window.

He’s so glad he looked in before he knocked, because he now understands why Luke didn’t answer the door. On his bed, the same bed that Michael has fallen asleep in countless times before, the same one that has felt like home when he’s upset, Olivia is lying on top of Luke, his hands on her hips and their lips moving together.

It’s a brutal reminder that his crush on Luke is unrequited, that Luke has a girlfriend and isn’t into him at all. It’s the sort of smack in the face he just wasn’t looking for today.

His shoulders slumping a little, he goes back across the street to his house, taking his beanie off and going to his room, explaining to his mum that Luke was out and he’d try again later. He sits on his bed, feeling like he just got humiliated in front of the entire school and he tries to forget about it, tries to convince himself he hasn’t got a crush on Luke even though he has and it really, really fucking sucks because he doesn’t want it anymore. He wants to climb out of his crush and take it to a dump and leave it there to decompose and rot until it’s gone.

It wasn’t like he’d made plans with Luke, or anything, to meet up that afternoon, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t gone over without any prior warning to discover Olivia was there, flashing him that kind smile of hers that always made it hard to feel resentful towards her. He’d just sort of expected that Luke would be free and he’d gush over his hair and things would be happy and wonderful and his afternoon would go as he expected.

Sometimes, he completely forgot about Olivia and he thinks he likes those brief respites of ignorance where he can daydream without remembering the fact that Luke doesn’t like him like that.

 

When Luke does see his hair the next day, he predictably fawns all over it, running his hands through Michael’s hair and spending more of their conversation with his hands in his hair than speaking. Michael really doesn’t mind, though, and lets Luke pull his head around because the way he’s tugging gently on his hair feels nice and the affection feels like balm after being miserable all of the day before. Calum likes it, too; he makes a point to compliment it and talk about it, even though Michael knows he’s not that interested in hair dye.

The months pass and people at school notice his hair, but there are very few negative comments and when they do happen, Luke and Calum are right beside him to tell whoever it was to fuck off. Honestly, he loves them more than anything.

In September, when the cold of winter is starting to fade into spring, Luke comes over in the middle of the night. It isn’t early, like midnight or one in the morning, but it’s late and Michael has just settled down to bed, and he’s half asleep when a knock on his window startles him back to consciousness. He looks at his window to see that his best friend’s face is half-hidden by the darkness of the night but illuminated by a nearby streetlamp.

Michael groans, opening the window and pushing the screen out. Luke clambers in, replaces the screen and shuts the window before sitting on the edge of the bed. He’s dressed in pajamas and his eyes are wide and a little anxious, if Michael is seeing right, because honestly, he was half asleep and he’s groggy.

“Is everything okay?” Michael asks, yawning.

Luke answers with a question, because of course. “How did you know you were gay?”

“Uh, I dunno,” he shrugs, rubbing at his eyes. “I just kind of, I dunno, realized that I don’t think girls are hot but I think guys are hot.”

Luke sighs, frustrated.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know!” He says, not loudly but louder than Michael would advise with his mum across the hall. He sighs and lowers his voice. “I don’t know, but like, I love Olivia and I’m attracted to girls, I think they’re hot. But I also think that there’s this guy that’s kinda hot?”

Michael reaches over and pulls him close, rubbing his back gently. “Luke, I can’t tell you what your sexuality is,” he says softly. “But maybe you’re bisexual?”

“That’s impossible, though,” Luke says. “Wouldn’t I have known sooner? Wouldn’t I have like, had crushes on guys sooner?”

Michael reminds himself that this isn’t about him as he wonders if Luke is attracted to him. “Not necessarily.”

Luke’s eyebrows knit together and it’s the cutest look. Michael isn’t upset he was woken up anymore.

“Sometimes sexuality changes,” he explains softly. “There are times when like, people go their entire life with one sexuality and then as they get older and time goes on, they realize they don’t identify with that sexuality at all. So, maybe you’re like that. Maybe before now you were straight and now you’re bi.”

Luke curls closer to him, sighing softly. “You’re so smart.”

Michael chuckles. “It takes some time to figure it out, usually. It took me a few weeks to figure it out, because you just kind of expect yourself to be straight because everyone else does.”

Luke looks up at him, his eyes wider in an apology, but Michael really doesn’t need it. Everyone does shitty things and he doesn’t want his best friend to have to apologize for something he didn’t mean to do, didn’t realize he was doing.

“I’ll be here every step of the way for you,” Michael whispers as Luke pulls away. He thinks he’s going to leave, go back across the street and go home.

Instead, Luke takes his shoes off and sits down again, reversing their position and wrapping his arms around Michael, holding him close. “Thank you,” he whispers, lying down and pulling Michael with him. He brushes his fingers through his hair, his nose pressed against his scalp, and this is one of those times where he completely forgets about Olivia and all he can think about is the two of them.

“Get some rest,” Michael whispers, thinking he likes the way it feels when he’s all wrapped up in Luke’s arms like this and thinking he likes Luke a lot more than he should.

“Hmm, you should too,” Luke hums. “Sleep tight.”

Michael smiles and curls closer, shutting his eyes and falling asleep easily and quickly in Luke’s arms.

 

For his birthday that year, Michael gets a cell phone, which he’s been asking for since Luke got one for his birthday. The first thing he does is get Luke and Calum’s number, and of course all the other obligatory numbers like his mum’s and his dad’s, even though he hasn’t spoken to him in a good few years. His contacts feel a little empty and his inbox is sparse, but he’s having a lot of fun simply having a phone like all the other kids at school, and having an easier way to communicate with his friends than by calling them on the clunky old home phone.

It means he gets more warning when Luke is on his way over from across the street. He gets little texts after a period of no replies that simply says ‘coming over’, and he has more time to get the screen off his window and be prepared for him. He also gets to give warning when he goes over, though it’s more likely they’ll be at Michael’s since his house is emptier and there’s less of a chance of someone interrupting them.

Michael is sitting at home, starting to do his homework in preparation for the end-of-term exams when his phone buzzes. He ignores it, because he’s banned himself from his phone for the next ten minutes in order to be productive, and he promises himself that whatever it is can wait. He doesn’t need to know if Calum says ‘hey what’s up’ or if his mum is texting him from his aunt’s house telling him she’ll be home soon. He really regrets his decision to not look when there’s a knock on the window and he looks up to see an exasperated Luke.

He goes over to the window. “Hey, sorry, I’m doing homework,” he says, pushing the screen out so Luke can clamber in.

“Sorry,” Luke mumbles, sighing. Michael can tell he’s angry by the fidgeting and dark look in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” He asks.

“Olivia’s a bitch,” Luke bites out. “I kind of, like, mentioned that I _might_ be bisexual and she went on this huge fucking rant about how bisexuality is all wrong and that bisexual people always end up ‘ _choosing_ ’ a side, like, wow, how fucking dare someone settle down with someone? I just don’t understand how she can be such a bitch.”

(Michael refuses, absolutely refuses, to feel optimistic that this is the end of Luke and Olivia’s relationship.) “I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I hear that’s a really huge problem, biphobia.”

Luke sits on his bed, shrugging. “Whatever. Maybe she’ll come around one day.”

Michael nods, sitting next to him. “Maybe, yeah.”

“What do I do about it, though?” Luke asks, looking over at him.

It’s ironic Luke is seeking relationship advice from the kid who’s never been in a relationship. “I dunno, I mean. You could just never discuss it with her or I dunno, you could break up with her.” He feels terrible for suggesting it, he doesn’t want to be the reason they break up.

Luke nods, sucking the bottom left corner of his lip into his mouth. “I still really love her,” he sighs. “If it becomes a problem, though, I guess I’ll have to break up with her.”

Michael nods, squeezing his shoulder gently.

“Can you take a break on your homework? Or I guess a longer one?” Luke asks.

“Sure, why not,” Michael shrugs. “What do you want to do?”

“We could bike over to the co-op and get ice cream, or something.”

“That sounds good.”

It’s hot out for springtime when they get outside, and by the time they get to the co-op, a gas station and convenience store a few minutes away from their houses, Michael has perspired a little. The ice cream cools him down though, and they eat it in the shade of the convenience store, almost waiting to be shooed away for loitering. Afterwards, they hop back on their bikes to go home, Michael trailing Luke since, honestly, Luke is a lot more in shape than he is and Michael is pretty sure he’s working off his anger at Olivia.

Halfway home, Luke turns around to smirk at Michael, disregarding the direction of his bike, and just as he begins to speak, he collides with a parked car. It happens quickly, and Michael drifts to a stop once Luke has tumbled onto the concrete, abandoning his bike in favour of checking to see if his best friend is okay.

Luke groans as he pushes himself off the ground, holding his left arm to his chest. He’s got a scrape on his chin that’s bleeding a little and Michael suspects he’s got the same kind of marks on the heels of his palms and on his knees. A glance down to his legs reveals that, yeah, his jeans are torn at the knees and yeah, that’s blood oozing out of the marks on his legs.

“Are you okay?” Michael asks, kneeling next to him.

“I think I broke my arm,” Luke mumbles, wincing.

“Shit,” Michael breathes. “Can you make it home okay?”

He nods, looking up at Michael when he stands and letting him help him up.

“Do you want to walk?” Michael asks as he helps Luke right his bike.

“No, I can ride one-handed. Let’s just go slow.”

Michael nods, and he gets his own bike, riding slowly beside Luke. It takes them a long time to get home, but when they do, it’s almost like time starts passing twice as fast as normal. They abandon their bikes in the driveway and Michael follows Luke inside after he cast him a pleading look, almost begging him to stay. He follows him inside and to the kitchen, where Luke’s parents had decided to begin their renovations.

He grabs Luke an ice pack from the freezer and steals a tea towel from where it was hanging on the modern oven, wrapping the ice pack in it. Luke’s arm was starting to swell and he hisses when he presses the ice pack against it, sitting down hard in one of the kitchen chairs.

“Are you okay?” Michael asks.

Luke nods, but the look on his face betrays him. “Can you get my mum?”

Michael nods, going into the living room in search of Liz and he finds her on the couch. “Uh, Liz?” He says softly. When he became a permanent fixture in Luke’s life, she asked that she be called by her first name, or he could just call her mum if he wanted.

She looks up and smiles at him. “You two are home?” She asks. “I like the hair, by the way.”

He smiles. “Yeah, thanks. Uh, Luke thinks he broke his arm. He fell off his bike on our way home.”

She’s up instantly, going to the kitchen and Michael kind of trails behind, lingering in the doorway while she looks at his wrist and Luke whimpers about it.

“Mum, ow, it hurts,” he says, sounding as though he’s on the edge of tears.

Michael’s heart stops for a split second because he hasn’t seen Luke cry in ages and he doesn’t want to see it again today.

“We should go to the hospital,” Liz says, looking and giving Michael a smile. “Thanks for helping him get home.”

Michael nods and helps Liz take him to the car, helping mostly with keys and doors because Liz is busy guiding Luke and helping him into the car. Once they drive off, and Michael is left with a pit of worry in his stomach, he puts Luke’s bike away in the backyard, underneath the porch, and takes his back across the street.

He finds it hard to concentrate on his homework when he gets home, and he finishes it sloppily, accepting that he’ll probably get a C on it, but it doesn’t really matter. The homework, at this point, is usually just marked for completion instead of quality since most of it is just review for the exams and he’s kind of worried about Luke, for no real reason.

Broken arms are easy to fix, he knows. It takes a cast and some painkillers and time and the bone is better than it was before, but he’s just worried that Luke was somehow more hurt and he’s worried because he heard his best friend almost cry. The thing is, Luke was in pain and Michael doesn’t like that, wants to take away his pain. He broke his wrist when he was eight, and he remembers wailing after he did it and how badly it hurt, and he knows Luke must have just gone through it, except with the knowledge he’d broken his arm.

Michael sees Luke the next day, and he’s fine, all goofy smiles as he lets everyone and anyone sign his cast, because no one can resist seeing a bare plaster cast. Michael takes pride in being the first to sign it, even before Olivia, on their way to school that morning after he scrounged a sharpie out of the bottom of his backpack. He doesn’t mention it to anyone, though, not wanting to give away his crush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think with kudos, comments, and on [my tumblr](mochalou.tumblr.com)!


	4. 295 228 090m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is! a new chapter! rejoice! anyway there's some stuff here borrowed from a quick google search because i mean how else am i supposed to do research but yes creds for some parts of this are not me, they're someone on yahoo answers i believe! enjoy!

Michael is still awake at midnight on a Thursday. He can’t sleep, and he knows that they’re watching a movie in science tomorrow, so it’s not like he really needs to be as alert as possible. He’s trying to finish his geography essay, because it’s due by the end of the day tomorrow and he’s on his concluding paragraph but they’re so hard. He has to summarize everything he’s said in the essay and at this point he just wants to copy his introductory paragraph and call it a day. It would probably get him a slim pass but he could edit it tomorrow and it’s not like he wants to be a geographer when he grows up.

He sighs and starts typing, deciding that he’ll just bullshit most of it and fix it tomorrow during lunch, or something. Calum is pretty good at geography, so he could look it over, probably. He ends the essay and he wants to add “I guess?” to the end of more than half of the sentences, but it’s done and that’s as good as it’ll be tonight.

His phone rings beside him and, mindful of his sleeping mum across the hall who would be pissed if she found him up this late on a school night, he answers it right away. “Hello?” He whispers.

“Hey,” Luke says softly. Michael exhales in relief that it isn’t the beginning of a horror film.

“You okay?”

Luke sighs softly. “I dunno, I just had a nightmare and my arm hurts.”

“What was the nightmare about?”

“I dunno, I just felt like I was trapped. Like, you know when you think blanket are really cool to hide under when you’re a little kid so you climb all the way under but then you feel like you’re suffocating because it’s so hot and then you try and get the blanket off but you can’t because it’s so heavy and you struggle for a little bit and you’re terrified?”

Michael nods. “Yeah. You okay now?”

“Yeah. I just wanted to talk to someone.”

“You said your arm hurts too?”

“Yeah.”

Michael saves his document and emails it to himself so he can print it off at school tomorrow. “You should take something for that.”

“I don’t wanna get up.” He can hear the pout in Luke’s voice and it’s damn adorable.

“Then it’s your fault you’re in pain.” His email sends and he starts shutting down his laptop, yawning.

Luke chuckles a little. “Did I wake you up?”

“Nah, I was finishing that geo essay.”

“Oh, yeah, Olivia was talking about that. Woods sounds like an asshole.”

“He is,” Michael says, thinking that it sucked Luke had mentioned Olivia but thinking it was nice that Luke’s first call when he wakes up from a nightmare is Michael.

Luke yawns and it’s adorable, the little sound he makes at the end of it. “I’m tired, but I can’t sleep yet.”

“Why not?” Michael asks as he puts his laptop where it belongs and lies down, his room now pitch dark.

“Cause, I dunno, I don’t want to have another nightmare.”

Michael chuckles softly. “You won’t have another nightmare, I promise. And I’ll keep my phone on so that if you do you can call me and it’ll wake me up.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“But I want to. So how can I keep you up until you’re not scared?”

Luke chuckles. “I dunno.”

“I could serenade you.”

“No,” Luke laughs, teasing. “Anything but that.”

Michael laughs softly.

“Just… Tell me a story?”

“Uh, okay.”

So Michael tells him this stupid story of when he was little and he wanted a little sibling, because a girl in his year’s parents had a baby boy and he was one of the only kids in his class who didn’t have a brother or sister. He begged his parents for weeks and asked his teacher if she could make his parents have another baby so he wouldn’t be an only child anymore and she laughed and told him there was nothing she could do about that.

By the time he’s done, Luke has fallen asleep and Michael is listening on the other end to the soft noises of his breathing and he hangs up, plugging his phone in for the night but leaving it on in case Luke needed him again.

The weather starts to cool down after a hot summer, fall finally upon them as they start worrying about end-term exams. They’re still a few weeks away, but Michael is still stressing out about them so he, Luke and Calum start studying together to help each other out and it takes a lot of the anxiety out of homework. And for the first time, Michael finds himself enjoying the book he was assigned to read for his English class and it isn’t really a strain to participate in discussions, though his face still does get flaming hot when he speaks.

He’s lying in bed, clad only in boxers and an old t-shirt, the memento of his first concert a few years ago which he had to stop wearing in public because it was sort of falling apart. The book they’re reading, _Lord of the Flies_ , is held open with his left hand while his right scribbles out chicken-scratch notes on a piece of paper. It’s not like the quality of his penmanship matters, though, because he’s the only one that has to be able to decipher it.

His hand skitters across the page when there’s a knock on his window, shocking him into drawing a big dark line from the tail of his last e to the end of the page. He looks up at the window and it’s just Luke, dressed in what Michael has started to think of as his “Olivia clothes”. His outfits are just a little less sloppy whenever he goes to see her or goes on a date, a little more thought-out than they are when he just comes over to see Michael.

Michael opens the window for him and he immediately flops on the bed, his elbow narrowly missing crumpling the notes Michael’s been working so hard on. “What happened?” He asks. Luke doesn’t normally come over post-date and he looks upset, even though he’s trying so hard to hide it.

“Olivia broke up with me,” he mumbles, sitting up into a slump.

 _Finally_ , Michael thinks to himself before the guilt hits him. He shouldn’t feel like that about this, he shouldn’t feel somewhat glad that Luke is now single, and from what he’s deduced, bisexual. He sits next to him, puts a hand on his back and lets him lean close. “I’m sorry,” he says softly. He really is. He knows that Luke was in love with Olivia, even though she was, in his own words, kind of a bitch sometimes.

Luke sighs. “It’s… whatever. I knew it was coming eventually. She’s been acting weird since like, November. I’m just kind of pissed because she let it go on that long and just like, distanced herself so much. And I mean, I’m upset because I really did love her a lot. But, yeah, whatever.”

Michael stays quiet for a while, making sure he’s done speaking. “Why’d she break up with you?”

“I came out to her,” Luke sighs. “I told her, like, explicitly, that I’m bi and she just like, freaked out and asked if I was cheating on her and then broke up with me because eventually I’d realize I was actually gay and I just didn’t want to say so because I was too scared.”

“I’m really sorry,” Michael says softly, pulling him closer.

Luke sniffles a little, pressing his face into Michael’s chest as his heart clenches. _Fuck._ Luke is crying, Michael realizes, so he just rubs his back and plays with his hair, hoping to calm him down before the actual crying starts.

“Mum really liked her,” Luke says, his voice too high and strained. “And we were dating for so long.”

Michael doesn’t know what to say. He’s never been in a relationship and the only other relationship dissolution he’s been near was his parents’ divorce when he was seven, but back then he didn’t really understand relationships and their ends. He just lies back, pulling Luke close and letting him cry, holding him as he shook with sobs, and feeling awful that he’d been secretly dreaming of this day since he started liking Luke so long ago.

“Luke,” he murmurs after a while, when his tears were mostly reduced to sniffles and deep breaths. “Look at me.” (He nearly calls Luke ‘love’.)

Luke looks up at him, eyes red and wet and his face still shiny with tears. It kind of breaks his heart, too. Michael grabs a tissue and wipes at his tears, even though he should’ve just handed it to him.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, okay? Even though she thinks there is, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with being bi. Freddy Mercury was bi. Billie Joe Armstrong is. You’re fine, I promise.”

Luke gives him a shaky smile as more tears appear in his eyes. “Thank you,” he chokes out as his tears spill over.

“Oh, shh,” Michael whispers, wiping the tears away with his thumb.

“I can’t, you’re just so nice,” Luke whispers, sobbing and burying his face in Michael’s chest again. “You’re my best friend, thank you for being here for me and being so wonderful. Thank you.”

Michael’s chest feels like it might burst from that, because it’s just so cute and sweet and he’s gone for Luke, honestly. “Hey, it’s no problem. I’m always here for you.”

Luke sniffles, staying quiet with the occasional hiccup. “I’m ruining your shirt, I’m sorry,” he mumbles, pulling away and sitting up.

“It’s okay, I have others.”

Luke wipes his cheeks and nose as Michael stands to get a new shirt, because Luke is right and there are wet patches where his tears landed. He doesn’t even think about taking his shirt off in front of Luke, even though he has a pocket of chubbiness on his stomach, a side-effect of puberty that he hopes will disappear when (if) he ever grows taller. He exchanges his shirt for a new one, one that’s newer, but it’s so soft.

He lies down again and Luke immediately curls into his chest, letting him wrap his arm around him and cuddling close. It’s warm and it’s cozy, albeit a little morose from what’s happened with Luke, but he’s at least calmer now and he’s not crying anymore.

“You were doing homework,” Luke murmurs, his eyes finding Michael’s borrowed and tattered copy of _Lord of the Flies_.

“Mhm,” Michael says softly, his fingers combing through Luke’s gorgeous blond hair.

“I haven’t even read much past chapter two.”

Michael laughs softly. “So that’s why your discussion points are always like ‘uhhh and that’s uhhh symbolism for uhhh… God’.”

Luke laughs. “Yeah, probably. What chapter are we supposed to be on?”

“Five.”

He nods, carding through Luke’s hair.

“You could read to me?”

Michael glances over at the time, seeing that it’s just before nine and Luke doesn’t have to be home until ten. “Okay. From the beginning of chapter three?”

Luke nods, and it takes some adjusting for them to get comfortable together with Michael holding the book while keeping an arm wrapped around Luke, but soon he’s reading to him. He keeps his voice low and he tumbles over some of the words sometimes, but he puts it down to the fact that he’s just nervous about it being perfect for Luke. He wants Luke to love the story like he does, wants to share another piece of himself with the boy he can’t help but fall for.

After nearly an hour of reading, Luke pulls away and thanks Michael again for all his help and for reading to him. He promises to text until he falls asleep before he climbs back out the window and goes home and for the next hour, he’s texting with Luke, trying to comfort him after he tells his parents about the breakup and also comes out to them. He’s crying again and Michael wants to sneak over but he’s got to be up so early tomorrow morning for school and from the sound of things, he’s only crying because his parents were so accepting.

Michael climbs into bed that night, plugging his phone in as he receives a text. He opens it, and it’s blindingly bright in the darkness of his room, but he smiles at it anyways.

 _I think I’d love all the assigned books if they were all read aloud by you_ , Luke sent.

Michael’s face nearly splits right into two from how wide he grins.

 

Calum reaches into the bag on Michael’s lap, darting in quickly and escaping with a Cheeto before Michael has time to swat his hand away. Instead, he throws him a glare and pulls the bag closer to his chest to protect it.

“You’re acting like you bought those,” Calum teases.

Michael shrugs, pulling another one out of the bag and popping it in his mouth. The chemical cheesiness was perfect. “Only ‘cause you said you weren’t hungry.”

“Changed my mind. Now share or I’m taking you back to kindergarten.”

Michael rolls his eyes. “Pick a damn movie.”

Calum groans when he stands, like it’s the most strenuous thing he’s done all day, and now that Michael thinks about it, it probably is. They’re between terms as the weather is getting progressively cooler and Michael and Calum are having a sleepover, sans Luke since he’s off visiting his grandma and his extended family for some Easter celebration. It’s one of the first things Calum and Michael have done together without Luke since they were about ten, and it’s kind of weird without him, quieter.

Michael’s phone vibrates, and with his clean hand, he grabs it to see who it is. It is, of course, Luke, there in spirit and complaining that he has to go to bed now and he has to share a bedroom with both of his brothers and he drew the short straw and got unfortunately paired with the foam mattress on the floor. Michael, typing one-handed, tells him that it’s only for the weekend and before he knows it he’ll be home again in his own, admittedly very comfortable, bed.

“Was that Luke?” Calum asks, scanning over the DVDs on the shelf.

“Yeah,” Michael says. “He’s sharing a room with his brothers and he’s sleeping on the floor.”

“Poor guy. Last time we went on a trip, my mum and sister had to share a bed. Neither of them were happy when it turned out the hotel had booked us wrong and only gave us a double bed instead of the queen we’d asked for.”

Michael chuckles. “Yeah, at least he doesn’t have to share a bed with his brothers.”

“Is he doing okay after the breakup?”

It had been two weeks since Luke and Olivia stopped being a thing, and every day at school since then had been awkward. “Yeah, he’s alright.”

Calum nods. “So she broke up with him in the park? Like, in public?” That was one of the rumours going around, because everyone was so interested in what had happened between them. It’s not every day that two kids are together for almost two years and break up almost without warning.

“No, at her house,” Michael says. “And then he came over to mine.”

“And he cried and stuff.”

“And he cried,” Michael agrees. “And he cuddled into me and then I read to him and it was really, really nice and calm and he’s really soft and he cried on me and kept apologizing but it was kind of cute.” His voice rises in tempo and volume as he gets more and more excited about it but he amends himself to be quieter.

Calum gives him a look and Michael realizes that, fuck. He totally gave himself away. “It was cute?” He asks.

“I mean, you know like the way sad dogs are cute? That sort of thing…”

“I won’t tell him if you like him.”

Michael nods.

“Do you like him?”

Michael nods again, unable to meet Calum’s eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I dunno, I was just really worried that you’d tell him and then things would get awkward, or you’d start treating me different or something. Or that you’d make it really obvious because you’re the least subtle person I know, honestly.”

Calum chuckles. “I promise I won’t make it super obvious or anything. You haven’t made it super obvious I like Paige.”

“You do that enough yourself.”

He glares. “Prick.”

Michael just gives him a wide toothy grin in response, putting another Cheeto in his mouth.

“How long have you liked him?”

“Since, like… I dunno, just after he started dating Olivia.”

“Jeez, that’s two years. Do you think something will ever happen?”

Michael laughs. “No, not at all. I know he’s bi and he’s single and stuff but I don’t think he likes me like that.”

Calum is once again quiet for a while. “Are you in love with him?”

Michael shrugs down at his bag of Cheetos, unsure about how to answer that. Was he in love with Luke? Does having a huge, burning crush on someone for two years constitute love? Or was he just infatuated, as he always had been? He’d never been in love before and he didn’t know what it felt like and he made a mental note to Google it when he gets home tomorrow.

“I dunno, I think I just like him. Can we watch a movie?” Michael asks. He doesn’t want to talk about Luke anymore, even though he’s pretty much constantly thinking of him and he could honestly wax poetic on his hair and his face and the curve of his lips.

Calum nods, looking down at the two choices in his hands. “ _Thor_ or _Iron Man_?”

“ _Iron Man_ ,” Michael answers.

“Only if you share the Cheetos.”

Michael rolls his eyes, but shares them anyway, mostly as a way of saying thank-you without actually saying thank-you. Calum took it perfectly and promised not to tell Luke and that was all Michael could’ve ever asked for. They watch _Iron Man_ together and fall asleep, Michael on the floor and Calum in his bed.

After a wonderful morning of pancakes, courtesy of Calum’s mum, Michael goes home with a slight headache and curls up with his laptop after he takes some painkillers. Google completes his query for him, _what does it feel like to be in love_ , and he’s grateful. He clicks on the first link that shows up, a Yahoo Answers page that looks like the best option he’s got, and he reads the best answer.

_It feels like you’d do anything for them, like their needs come before yours. You want nothing more than for them to be happy, and you’d do anything to make them that way. You always want to be with them, and when you’re not, you’re just thinking about being together again. They’re the last thing you think about before you fall asleep – and the first thing you think about when you wake up. They make every day worth waking up for because you get to see them again today. To love someone is to give them the power to destroy you and trusting them not to._

It’s all cheesy as hell and it sounds like it came out of a romantic drama film, but it’s all kind of true. Michael does, and would do, just about anything for Luke and he just wants him happy and he thinks about him all the time when they’re in separate classrooms or across the street from each other. Luke is his last thought before he falls asleep and he’s his first in the morning. If this simple Yahoo Answers post were a checklist for being in love, Michael would have checkmarks all down the margin.

According to that, he’s in love with his best friend.

It’s probably the fatigue, but he tugs at his hair, groaning softly in frustration. It’s bad enough he thinks about kissing Luke every time they’re together but to be in love with him? It almost aches and it feels like his chest is being constricted, which he belatedly realizes is just him crying. He pushes his laptop off his lap and onto the bed, shoving his face into his pillow and trying not to cry more, but he can’t help it because fuck, fuck, fuck, he’s in love with Luke and it’s not fucking fair.

After he relents and lets himself have a good, very overdue cry, he curls up under his blankets to have a well-deserved nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think with kudos and comments and you can come chat with me on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	5. 295 175 496m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have fun with this one~
> 
> also quick note, i mention temperature and i mean celsius ten degrees celsius

In protest to his apparent being-in-love, Michael dyes his hair again after a too-long gap between touch-ups in which the blue had faded to a light pastel colour and his roots were starting to show no matter how he did his hair. He purchases a green dye and spends a weekend doing his hair, bleaching it white-blond again before putting the green dye in and he’s pleased with the outcome: bright, lime green, which is totally different from blue and the blue dye he had had before.

Winter comes upon them as well, cold and making Luke cuddle up with Michael a lot more often than usual, which he doesn’t mind except that it makes his chest throb and his heart beat with an echoing _I love you_. Luke fusses over his hair when he sees it, keeping his hands tangled in it for the better part of the day, smiling and complimenting it, though he does admit to missing the blue.

Michael tries to do his math homework all Saturday, but to no avail. All it does is frustrate him to the point of him wanting to tear out his freshly dyed hair and the internet is no help. So he sends Luke a quick text telling him he’s coming over before he goes over to his house, knocking on his window. He can hear Green Day through the thin glass and he’s immediately calmer as Luke helps him climb in through the window.

They sit together on the floor, Luke turning “St. Jimmy” down low enough so they can talk over it.

“Are you okay?” Luke asks, resting against his bed.

Luke’s bedroom was one of the last to go through renovations and now he’s got a new shiny hardwood floor and creamy white walls, adorned with various posters just like in Michael’s room. They’re sat on the rug beside his bed, dark blue to match his sheets and Michael can definitely feel the tough hardwood against his arse.

“Yeah, I’m just frustrated,” he sighs. “I hate math.”

Luke wraps an arm around his shoulders, his fingers tangling in his hair. “So does, like, everyone.”

Michael gives him a mock-glare. “Helpful.”

Luke smiles, the expression soft as his fingers curl, fisting in his hair. “You love me,” he teases, though his voice is quieter than normal.

He doesn’t know the half of it. Michael grunts in response, laying his head on his shoulder, though he knows Luke’s head is still angled towards his, still looking at him with that affectionate look and this is so much calmer than trying to bullshit his way through his math homework. This is so much better than trying to do his math homework.

The song changes to Blink-182’s “Reckless Abandon” and they’re quiet and it’s really, really nice. Michael shuts his eyes, fooling himself into thinking, for just a second, that they’re a couple, that Luke is his boyfriend and the arm around him and the hand in his hair are on the other side of platonic. Deep down in the pit of his stomach, he knows he’s wrong, that Luke is just a tactile person and likes cuddling and Luke isn’t and won’t be his boyfriend.

“Mikey,” Luke whispers.

Michael looks up, intrigued by the nickname. He can remember being really young and telling people that they can’t call him Mike or Mikey, but the way it falls off Luke’s tongue makes him think Luke is the only exception to that rule. “Yeah?”

“You’ll be here on my birthday, right?” Luke asks. “Like, you’ll come over and stuff?”

Usually Luke didn’t celebrate with his friends on his actual birthday, usually having a little party the week before when they were still between terms. But since last year, Michael and Calum have both been invited to his family party on the day of his actual birthday.

Michael nods. “I’ll be here.”

Luke smiles that soft smile, leaning his forehead against Michael’s and this moment, the both of them cuddled together, is so electric and soft at the same time, somehow. He shuts his eyes, and tries to catalogue every inch of it into his memory so he never forgets any of it.

 

Michael bought Luke a new poster and t-shirt for his birthday, and has them both carefully wrapped as he walked over to Luke’s house with Calum, who’d gotten him twenty dollars of iTunes money, which he’d hidden in a card. When the door opens, it isn’t Liz or Luke, but Ben, and after he says hi, he calls Luke down and they hear him nearly die racing his way downstairs.

He’s all bright smiles when he greets them, though, taking them into his room because dinner isn’t for another half hour, at least, and until then, it doesn’t matter where they are. They sit on his bed, which is admittedly too small for three teenage boys, and Luke tells them that Ben came down from university instead of just Skyping like he had to last year because he had some test on Luke’s birthday.

“Am I allowed to open your gifts now?” Luke asks, pouting at him.

Michael glances over at Calum. “Fine,” he says. “But Calum’s first.”

Luke beams, taking the envelope from him. He tore it open and immediately the gift card slid out the bottom of the card and into his lap, and he picked it up, triumphant. “Awesome! Thank you.”

Calum shrugs. “It’s no problem. I’m sure you’ll spend it all in like, five seconds.”

“Probably,” Luke laughs. “Hand over yours, Mikey.”

Michael is acutely aware of Calum’s confused glance towards him, but he ignores it in favour of handing over the wrapped shoebox he’d concealed his gifts in.

Luke once again tears through the wrapping paper, tossing it haphazardly on his floor and giving Michael a fake dirty look when he sees it’s a shoebox. “I swear to God, if you got me shoes, I’m going to call you my grandma.”

“Just open it,” Michael chuckles.

Luke flips the top over and pulls out the poster first. It’s held in its roll by a sliver of tape and he picks it off and unrolls it, grinning widely when he saw it was the limited edition All Time Low poster he’d seen in HMV. He rolls it back up and looks in the box again, seeing the t-shirt and pulling it out, unfolding it and lunging over to wrap his arms around Michael and nearly knock him against the footboard.

“They’re both perfect,” he whispers in his ear, clutching tight to him. “Thank you.”

Michael hides his grin in Luke’s shoulder. “It’s no problem, really.”

“Wow, so I don’t get a hug for my obviously just as thoughtful gift?” Calum says sarcastically.

Luke pulls away from Michael and hugs Calum, though it isn’t quite the bear-hug Michael received and it doesn’t last as long. “Thank you, both of you. I love them so much and I love you guys.”

“Sap,” Calum teases.

Luke smiles in return and clears up the wrapping paper, and shortly after they’re called for a dinner of all of Luke’s favourites, which is great and Michael and Calum both make sure to compliment their cooking multiple times. After their plates are cleared up, Liz brings the cake in, and they all sing to Luke, even though he flushes deep red and buries his face in his hands. They stay through his gifts from his family and the cake and spend some time with him in his room before Calum gets picked up by his sister.

Luke and Michael saw him to the car and now they’re outside, the both of them in thin long-sleeved shirts, and it’s really too cold for this. They should go back inside because it’s below ten and Michael’s fingers are beginning to freeze, or he should at least go back home, but neither of them are moving and he doesn’t really want to say goodbye yet.

Luke’s hand slips into Michael’s and he looks over at him. Together, their hands are warmer and his fingers thaw a little bit; in thanks, he squeezes Luke’s hand gently and tries to will his hands to not sweat because now is really not the time. Luke’s grip on his hand tightens a little and in a second, he’s pulled him closer and pressed their lips together.

They’re kissing.

Michael has never kissed anyone before but he’s dreamt about kissing Luke and now here he is, Luke on his lips and kissing him gently, holding onto his hand tight. Even though he’s taken aback, he doesn’t pass up the opportunity and kisses Luke back, his heart hammering in his chest and butterflies erupting in his stomach. It tastes like hints of birthday cake with undertones of garlic bread, but Luke’s lips are so soft and he’s so warm, with his other hand coming up to cup his cheek while Michael’s rests cautiously on his side.

Luke pulls away and grins at him, tucking his lips into his mouth. _Nervous habit_ , Michael thinks as he short-circuits.

“Thanks again for your gifts,” Luke says softly. “They were really thoughtful and, like… yeah. Thank you.”

“No problem,” Michael breathes out, wondering if the reason he got kissed was because he got Luke a good birthday present.

“So, uh, I should get inside.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I should get home.”

Luke smiles and wraps his arms around Michael, even though his mind is racing a million miles a minute with one question aching to be spoken. _Why’d you kiss me?_ He doesn’t say anything, just hugs Luke back, still tasting him on his lips.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Luke smiles, pulling away from the hug.

“Yeah, of course,” Michael says softly.

Luke smiles and goes back inside while Michael turns and walks towards his house, his knees shaking in his jeans as he calls out a hello to his mum before he goes to his room and flops down on the bed.

He just had his first kiss. He had his first kiss with his crush of over two years. He just had his first kiss with Luke Hemmings, and he feels like the girl in those teenage comedies who lies on her bed and kicks her feet and squeals. He does just that; rolls over, pushes his face into his pillow and lets himself grin until his face hurts and he kicks his feet.

Kisses don’t mean nothing and ones like that don’t mean best friends. Luke is bisexual and Michael is in love with him and now they’ve kissed and Michael thinks that maybe he was wrong when he said he didn’t think anything would happen between them. He thinks he was wrong and there’s a really high chance Luke could maybe one day be his first boyfriend. Luke is well-versed in relationships and kissing and Michael’s heart soars as he thinks he could be his boyfriend.

He forces himself to take a deep breath and reminds himself it might be just a kiss, that there are still so many movies out there about being lead on, especially with gay relationships. There might not be a happy ending to this, he reminds himself, and he might get his heart broken. But, God, if he had to get his heart broken by anyone, he would pick Luke every single time if it meant he got to call Luke his for any period of time.

Michael takes another deep breath and grabs his phone, calling Calum because he doesn’t know who else to call or what to do.

“Hey,” Calum says, out of breath. It strikes him that Calum had a soccer game.

“Luke kissed me,” he blurts.

“What? When, what happened?”

Michael explains it, about how they stood outside and Luke just kissed him out of nowhere.

Calum lets out his breath when Michael is finished. “Jeez… seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. He was my first kiss.”

“I’m… Jesus, Michael, that’s awesome!”

He grins. “Yeah, it kind of is.”

“So, when’s the wedding?” He teases.

“Oh my God, we’re not going to get married.”

Calum chuckles. “Yeah, whatever you say. Are you going to ask him out?”

“I don’t know,” Michael sighs. “I don’t think I have the guts.”

“You could do it. I mean, he kissed you, he obviously likes you.”

“I know, I just… I’m doubtful and I’m worried he’ll say no anyway.”

“He probably won’t,” Calum says. “Hey, I’m sorry to cut this short, but I’ve got a party to get to.”

Michael nods. “Yeah, of course. Have fun.”

“You too.”

Michael hangs up and takes a deep breath. His lips still feel strange from being kissed and he can still taste Luke if he concentrates, and his heart pitter-patters at the thought of it. He kissed Luke, and if that’s all he gets before they slip back into a platonic relationship he’s not sure he’d mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> weee! i really hope you enjoyed that one and please please let me know what you think with kudos and comments or on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com) and i'd really really appreciate it if you'd tell your friends about my fic if you enjoy it


	6. 295 122 900m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wah prepare for me being all emotional because it's been 13 months to the day since I started writing this fic with little ten year old muke and now I'm posting it I really hope you like this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

On Monday at school, things are normal. Luke is maybe a bit more touchy and walks closer to him than normal, letting their knuckles brush together, but he doesn’t mention the kiss at lunch and he doesn’t ask him out or anything. Michael thinks that there must be something wrong, he must have kissed Luke wrong, but he can’t think that he did anything wrong. Luke was the one leading the kiss, after all, and Michael is filled with his first bout of real teenage angst over a boy.

By Friday, when he still hasn’t gotten another kiss and he hasn’t been asked out, he sits in his room on his laptop, turning to Google in his time of need and searching for ways to make his best friend fall for him. The WikiHow articles are all based on heterosexual relationships, though, and it advises him to play up his best feature (maybe his eyes with some eye shadow or a belt for his sexy curves). It’s aggressively unhelpful because, along with being centred on a girl/boy relationship, offers advice that makes the assumption he doesn’t know anything about the guy he wants to go on a date with.

He’s looked through almost every article that came up and he’s seen advice to play with his hair and to get to know him and he really wants to find a website for gay kids who are looking for advice on relationships. He also wants something that will tell him he’s not crazy and the kiss really did happen and honestly, friends don’t kiss. Friends don’t kiss each other like that.

Michael turns up his music and nearly misses the sound of his phone vibrating somewhere near his pillow, where he tossed it when he came in after dinner. He reaches over, his laptop sliding onto the mattress as he retrieves it and unlocks it before he opens his text. It was from Luke, because of course.

_Come over. My dad is on some work call in the backyard and I can’t sneak out._

There’s four sad emojis following it and Michael feels a burst of fondness. _How am I supposed to get in if he’s in the backyard?_

_I’ll sneak you in dad’s office or something. Please? I really want to see you._

Michael, in his frustration from a lack of advice, almost says that he doesn’t feel up to it. But it’s Luke and there’s a chance something might come of it, so he sends an _ok_ before he grabs his shoes and sneaks out his window, into the late July chill and across the street to Luke’s house. He sees Luke waiting in one of the front windows, smiling when he spots Michael and quickly pushing the screen out, helping him inside.

Luke replaces the screen and Michael looks around Andy’s office, one of the few rooms in their house that he hadn’t explored much and it was like something out of a goddamn TV show. There was a dark wooden desk and a sleek, faux leather chair and a fancy computer and a bookshelf stuffed with books. Michael struggled to remember what Luke’s dad did for a living while he waited for Luke to fix the window and everything.

“Sorry,” Luke murmurs as he takes his hand, leading him through the kitchen and back into his room.

“It’s fine,” Michael says softly, toeing off his shoes.

Luke watches him and Michael thinks for a second that it’s odd because usually he’s sitting down at this point, waiting for him. Michael looks up at him once he’s done and Luke steps over, his hands coming up to cup his cheeks and pull him in for a kiss.

 _Fuck_.

Michael doesn’t think he minds if this is how his Friday night ends up, with Luke’s lips on his and his hands slowly snaking up to his hair, tangling in it and pulling him closer. Michael’s hands end up on Luke’s side again, ready to push him away and ready to fist in his shirt and tug him closer because he’s wanted this for so long and he got a taste last week and he wants more. Luke is once again leading the kiss, moving their lips together quickly.

This kiss is more heated than the one last week, faster and more desperate. Michael wonders curiously if tonight will be the night he loses his virginity, and he doesn’t think he would mind that it was Luke since his heart is pounding a chorus of _I love you I am so in love with you_ underneath his breastplate. He lets himself relax a little bit, lets his hands drift around his waist to his back and link there, holding him closer.

Luke pulls away, taking in a deep breath and Michael is glad to know he’s not the only one who’s breathing heavily. “You’re a really good kisser,” he whispers, his hands sliding down to the back of his neck and the collar of his shirt, which suddenly feels like way too much to be wearing.

“I’m learning from the best,” Michael whispers back and his eyes are nearly completely focussed down on Luke’s lips and how they’re so _pink_ from being kissed.

Luke laughs softly. “You’re a sap.”

Michael realizes he can initiate a kiss if he wants to and leans down, pecking his lips. (Luke is shorter than him, though from how tall his brothers are he expects that to change within the coming months.)

Luke chuckles, letting their lips graze together with his gorgeous eyes half-lidded, before he pulls away, stepping out of Michael’s arms. Michael blinks, confused and wondering if he did something wrong, but Luke takes his hand and leads him to the bed and _oh_. He follows, stumbling a little over the rug beside his bed, making Luke chuckle as he sat on the bed and reached for Michael, who sat next to him, unsure of what to do now. He wonders if his inexperience is what’s making Luke delay asking him out.

Luke leans over and kisses him again and Michael inhales. He doesn’t think he’ll get used to the feeling of being kissed and the way Luke kisses him and how this kiss is so much softer than their kiss a few minutes ago. Michael thinks that this, technically, is his third kiss and he should keep track so one day he can tell someone he was kissed one hundred and thirteen times, or something like that, and that his first kiss was with his best friend in the whole world. (He’s really glad his first kiss wasn’t with some random guy at some party but was instead with Luke.)

(He was also really glad no one would ever know just how many times the word ‘kiss’ had just gone through his head because he was _not_ going to be the sappy one in this relationship.)

Luke gently pushes Michael back onto the bed and slowly slides their tongues together, making Michael gasp softly through his nose because, _wow_ , okay, now he can taste Luke better and the sensation is better than he ever would’ve thought, especially considering the actual mechanics of it all but _whatever_. He can’t help the little squeak he makes, which makes Luke pull away quickly, eyes widened in worry and his fingers coming up to press gently on his chest.

“Was that too fast?” He asks, keeping his voice low. “I’m sorry, we don’t have to do that if you don’t want.”

“No, no,” Michael whispers. “That was good, it was fine. Just the first time anyone’s ever kissed me like that and it shocked me. I like that, do it again.”

“You,” Luke murmurs, “are adorable,” leaning down and kissing him again.

Very slowly, Luke opens their mouths and Michael just follows what he’s doing, his hands pinned against the mattress because he’s worried if he touches Luke this will all come to an end. So he follows his lead and feels their chests brush together every now and then when Luke leans down to kiss him deeper than before, even though at this point he’s not sure that’s possible.

Time becomes a string of lips and tongues and tender touches to his chest, slow kisses and the sound of lips on lips and soft breathing. There was the occasional shy smile and flushed cheek when they separated for a gasp of air like kids in a pool trying to touch the bottom of the deep end and repeatedly failing. In the middle of one of the deeper, slower kisses, Michael strings his arms around Luke’s shoulders and he doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t pull away. Instead, Luke’s warm hand finds its way to the gap between where his shirt has ridden up and where his pants sit on his hips, and the tips slide underneath, brushing at the skin over his hip.

Michael squeaks again and Luke pulls away, pulling his hand out from under his shirt even though Michael wants it there, really, really wants it there.

“I’m sorry,” Luke says quickly. His lips are red and shiny from all the kissing.

“No, it’s fine,” Michael promises.

Luke smiles again. “Maybe we should just sleep. It’s late, after all.”

Michael glances at the clock to see that it is, indeed, nearly one in the morning. “Oh. Yeah. Can I stay here?” He asks quietly, shyly.

Luke nods. “Mhm, of course,” he says softly, smiling as he lies down again and pulls him close.

Michael cuddles into him, smiling a little as Luke runs his hands through his hair and presses a kiss to his forehead.

“Goodnight,” Luke murmurs.

“Night,” Michael whispers, falling asleep in his favourite place: Luke’s arms.

He wakes up in his favourite place the next morning, too early for his liking, though he does get to spend a nice five minutes, conscious and sleepy, in Luke’s arms while receiving small kisses. Eventually, he sneaks back home and gets another few hours of sleep, alone and in his own bed. When he wakes up again later, he calls Calum and tells him about what happened and Calum once again urges him to ask Luke out, just tear the band aid off now and get it over with.

Michael tries his hardest to stop anticipating Luke asking him out and he tries his hardest to pluck up the courage to ask him out himself, but it’s hard. Every time he’s alone with Luke over that next week, all he can think about are the next words out of his mouth if he pauses. He’s prepared, he’ll say yes in a heartbeat and even though it might mean going on a date and stressing about fucking it up on the date, he doesn’t care, he’ll take it.

(He tries not to lose hope, either, even though by the time Friday rolls around he isn’t Luke’s boyfriend and he doesn’t receive another text asking him to come over. He wonders if Luke wanted to test the water before he jumped in and realized he didn’t like it and jumped out. He wonders if all he was to Luke was someone to kiss while he’s lonely, but he apologized every time he did something that made Michael squeak in case he was uncomfortable. He’s torn and he just wants to be with Luke.)

On Saturday evening, Michael is trying to drown his thoughts in a bowl of popcorn and ignoring his homework, pushing it deeper and deeper into “later”. He’s been Googling “how to get over your crush” and it, once again, is no help at all and is just telling him to distance himself from Luke and never speak to him again until he doesn’t like him anymore.

His phone buzzes and he considers ignoring it, simply because he’s been sitting here eating popcorn for the last half hour and he doesn’t want to be Luke’s plaything, if it is Luke. He convinces himself after another song that it’s Calum, it’s Calum and not Luke and he shouldn’t worry about it.

 _Can you come over?_ And, of course, it’s from Luke.

Michael hates that he types out _yeah_ before he grabs his shoes and walks across the street to Luke’s house. He climbs in the window, and Luke reaches for him. He takes his time putting the window back in place and taking off his shoes before he goes over to Luke, lying next to him and cuddling close. Luke has a book flipped upside down on his chest, the pages spread out and Michael can’t read the spine without turning to an awkward angle.

“You okay?” Luke asks softly.

“Tired,” Michael murmurs. It’s late and his mum made him get up early today to go grocery shopping with her.

Luke kisses the top of his head. “I’ll read you to sleep, if you want.”

Michael chuckles. “You’re awful at reading aloud.”

“Yeah, but it’s the thought that counts.”

“I’d be up all night correcting your pronunciation on things.”

“Onomatopoeia is a difficult word, okay?” He flubs up the pronunciation, again, and it comes out more like ‘ono-mate-oh-poh-ee-ah’.

Michael snorts involuntarily. “You’re a dork.”

“Fine, then you should read to me.”

“Demanding, much,” Michael says as he takes the book off his chest, his fingers pressing down on his skin gently and he can feel the thin layer of skin before the ends of his ribs and all he can imagine is Luke shirtless.

He shifts so he’s propped the book up on Luke’s chest, holding it there while he reads aloud, starting from the beginning of the page because he knows Luke doesn’t mind if he takes in parts of the story again when Michael reads to him. Eventually, he flips onto his back again, holding the book aloft to read it, his head near Luke’s as he reads through the book.

Michael finishes the chapter and he turns his head to look over at Luke and ask if he wanted to go on, because he was getting pretty tired and he kind of wanted to sleep in his favourite place. Luke doesn’t give him a chance to speak, though, and kisses him. It’s like last week’s, it’s needy and almost crushing and Michael doesn’t really think he minds it.

Luke pulls away only long enough to toss the book to the floor before he’s on his lips again, his hands already on his hips even though their kisses aren’t lasting long enough to be those slow, deep ones like they were last week. Michael is curious as to where this came from, where Luke’s thoughts were when he crushed their lips together like that and why he didn’t just do this when Michael lied down next to him.

Luke slides his hands under Michael’s shirt, hovering just an inch over him with their lips centimetres away from each other. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “You’re just so beautiful when you read.”

Michael’s heart misses a beat. _He’s beautiful._ “It’s fine, it’s fine,” he murmurs. “Kiss me.”

Luke leans down again, kissing him with the same fire as before, his hands on Michael’s soft waist, his pudgy tummy that didn’t fade when he grew a few inches. He doesn’t think Luke minds, because his hands aren’t moving to a bonier region on his body and he’s not pulling them away as their lips move together. Luke opens their mouths and Michael tangles his fingers into his soft hair, tugging him down closer if that’s at all possible at that point because their bodies are almost pressed flush together, Luke angled on top of him.

Michael is the one who surfaces for air next, panting softly since, God, Luke is an incredible kisser. Luke’s hands slide slowly out of his shirt, grabbing the hem and he looks down at him, his eyes asking for permission and Michael nods. It’ll prevent him from sweating and he’s okay with Luke seeing his stomach, in all its pudgy glory. It’s cool when his shirt is slid off, the winter air still seeping in through the cracks, and he wonders how he’s supposed to ask for Luke to take his off as well but he does it right after he’s tossed Michael’s away.

Luke’s body is scrawnier than Michael’s, his ribs visible even though he eats a lot, and it’s kind of strange because Michael hasn’t seen him shirtless in a while.

Luke leans down and kisses him gently. “There’s nothing wrong with being chubby,” he whispers, his lips drifting over Michael’s as he speaks. “Absolutely nothing. Patrick Stump is chubby, too, and he’s incredible. You’re gorgeous.”

Michael feels sort of like he might cry if Luke keeps that up, if Luke uses his own comforting tactics on him, so he kisses him to make him stop talking. Luke thinks he’s gorgeous, Luke thinks he’s beautiful and Luke likes his body. Luke _likes him_ and it’s everything Michael’s ever wanted so much that he thinks he might be dreaming. He wonders if it’s possible to have dreams this long and this vivid and he wonders if he’s really still at home on his laptop, trying to fall out of love with Luke and he just fell asleep.

They’re soon making out again, their tongues sliding together and Michael is in love with him, he’s so in love with the boy he’s kissing and he just wants to pull away and suggest they spend the rest of their teenage years being a sickeningly sweet couple. He wants to be the kind of couple that other kids roll their eyes at because there they are, making out against their lockers _again_ when they were doing it between classes just an hour ago. He wants to be the kind of couple that the little seventh years aspire to be in one day, the kind of couple that no one messes with.

Luke quickly pulls away, flushing dark red. “Uh, I’ve got to go to the bathroom really quick,” he says softly, standing up.

Michael wonders if he’s sick, but he doesn’t seem to be, so his next conclusion is that it’s his fault. “Did I slobber on you?” He asks, wiping at his mouth with his hand. It doesn’t feel overly slobbery.

Luke just grins. “Nah,” he says softly. “I’ll be back in a minute, sweetheart.”

Michael frowns when his door closes softly behind him, and he sits up, his tailbone near Luke’s pillows. His pudginess is even more prominent at this point, and he feels sort of ridiculous sitting there shirtless with his lips kiss-swollen and holding onto that weird tingling sensation to remind him he’s just been thoroughly kissed.

A minute passes and he wonders after Luke, wondering if he’s okay and contemplating going to the door and seeing if he’s okay. He goes through the events in his mind. _Shirtless, making out, a little tongue in there_. Nothing seems to – oh. He, being the immature teenage boy that he is, snickers when he figures it out. Luke isn’t sick, he just got turned on from all the making out and Michael feels weirdly proud that he was able to do that to Luke, make him horny like that.

Luke comes back a few minutes later, pecking Michael’s lips before he lies down and tugs him down as well. “Sorry,” he says softly.

“It’s fine,” Michael chuckles, cuddling close to him. “We should sleep. We can’t kiss forever.”

“Is that a challenge?” Luke teases softly, though a yawn betrays him.

“No, goodnight,” Michael says softly, leaning up and kissing him one last time.

“Goodnight.”

It takes Michael a few minutes to fall asleep because he isn’t used to the noise of sleeping next to another person and his head is on Luke’s chest. He can hear every inhale and every exhale and if he shifts his head just slightly, he can hear his heartbeat. In those minutes before he falls asleep, he wonders if Luke will ever ask him out or if they’ll continue in this pattern, making out on Fridays and Saturdays perpetually. He can turn Luke on but he’s not sure if he can give Luke the same butterflies he gets whenever they touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think with comments and kudos and come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	7. 295 122 900 pt2

In the morning, he wakes up too early, too warm under Luke’s blankets with their bare chests sharing heat. Luke is still asleep and his arm, which was strong and holding Michael in place last night, is now limp and his hand is hanging off the edge of the bed. Michael slowly sits up, away from Luke, and he looks down at him. His eyes are shut and his mouth is hanging open a little and he looks really, really pretty in the pale morning light.

Michael’s heart fucking aches when he remembers Luke probably doesn’t want him as someone he can wake up to every morning and someone he can love, romantically. Luke wants him as a best friend who he can make out with whenever and Michael realizes his crush was probably totally obvious and Luke was probably still into Olivia and hadn’t gotten used to being single yet, even though it was August today and they broke up in March. Luke was probably taking advantage of his crush, exploiting it for his own personal gain because he still wasn’t used to being single but didn’t want to be with Michael.

He realizes he may be jumping to conclusions, but his head hurts and he got six hours of sleep and his lips still have that strange post-kiss sensation clinging to them. He finds his shirt close to Luke’s closet and he pulls it on, going over to the window and thanking any deity that Luke is one of the world’s heaviest sleepers. Carefully, in an attempt to be as quiet as possible, he slides the screen out of its spot and climbs out the window. He can’t put the screen back from out here, but he slides Luke’s window shut with a little bit of stretching and reaching.

Michael wraps his arms around himself, since it’s cold and early outside, and he goes back home. He changes into his pajamas when he gets home and climbs into bed, hoping to sleep until at least eleven even if it means he doesn’t get to sleep very well tonight. Sleep doesn’t come, though, no matter how hard he tries and even when he tries to read himself to sleep.

At around ten, his phone buzzes with a text and, groggily, he reaches over to see who it is. It’s Luke, because of course.

_Where are you? Is everything okay?_

Michael puts his phone on his nightstand, choosing to ignore his texts for a while in favour of reading and generally feeling too tired to be awake, but too awake to be asleep.

Over the course of the next hour, his phone buzzes six more times, each one getting closer to the last as Luke becomes increasingly worried. Michael ignores them, turning his phone on silent because he doesn’t want to be Luke’s plaything and he doesn’t want this to continue anymore but he’s too chicken to pick up the phone and tell him that. He hopes his passivity conveys the message well enough and he hopes that they can still go on being best friends.

His eyes pause mid-sentence in the book he’s reading when he realizes that he could fuck up their friendship, their group’s dynamic. He could be putting Calum right in the middle of some of the worst tension ever and he could potentially ruin everything he’s built with Luke since they were ten year olds playing with sidewalk chalk. Is it worth it, risking all of that, just because he doesn’t want to be Luke’s “sometimes”?

Michael puts his book aside, brings his knees to his chest as he starts to cry. He doesn’t deserve to just be friends with benefits he never agreed to with Luke but he doesn’t want to ruin their friendship. He wants to go back before Luke’s birthday, before he tasted birthday cake on his lips and before he knew what it felt like to kiss someone, and leave with Calum to avoid being kissed. He doesn’t want to fuck it up with Luke and Calum and their group. He wants things to snap back to how they were in July or to be Luke’s boyfriend and there are no alternatives, no perhaps he could travel down that would take him to a positive outcome.

He does what any teenager having an emotional breakdown would do. He grabs his phone and ignores the nine unread texts from Luke, calling Calum instead as he sniffles and pulls a tissue out of the box, wiping at his nose. He knows Calum had soccer practice this morning (or a game?) but he’s pretty sure he’s done by now.

“Hey?” Calum says when he answers.

Michael sniffles. “Hi.”

“What’s wrong?” Calum asks immediately.

Michael explains it all and by the end of it he’s crying again. Calum calms him down before he says anything else.

“He’s probably just as nervous as you are,” he says. “And I agree, he shouldn’t be doing that but you’re jumping to conclusions. You should answer his texts.”

He takes a deep breath. “Okay.”

“Will you be okay?”

“Yeah, thank you.”

“Call me after, if you’re not too busy pashing his brains out.”

Michael chuckles and thanks their teacher in year two that sat them at the same table. “I doubt that’ll happen, but okay.”

“I’ll talk to you later, keep me updated.”

“Okay, thank you.”

Michael hangs up and decides the best way to calm down would be to shower. He takes a hot shower, lengthening it out by washing his hair just to kill time because he doesn’t know how to start the conversation he needs to have with Luke. He doesn’t know how to just pick up the phone and tell him to make up his mind without being incredibly rude and he guesses that might be okay, for him to be accidentally rude when Luke has been accidentally rude as well.

He gets out of the shower and towel dries his hair until it isn’t dripping down his face he takes his time getting dressed as well. By the time he’s dressed, it’s nearly noon so he chokes down some lunch with his mum even though he’s not hungry at all. He knows he’s stalling too much, but he’s terrified that once he talks to Luke he’ll find out that he doesn’t actually want anything to do with him other than kissing. He’s terrified Luke doesn’t want him the way he wants Luke.

After lunch and after his mum leaves to see a friend, Michael sits on the edge of his bed and looks through the texts from Luke.

_Seriously Mikey, where’d you go? Please tell me you’re home safe I’m worried_

_Miiiiiichaaaaael are you sick or something_

_You’re probably asleep… or sick. Hope I didn’t give you something!_

_I really want to talk to you please answer_

_I might just climb in your window soon_

_Okay seriously I’m worried about you and I’m worried you like got hit by a car or something please don’t have gotten hit by a car_

_Okay I texted Calum and he says you’re home and safe and stuff but I still really need to talk to you please text me back and tell me when’s a good time to come over!!!_

Michael bites down on his lip and takes a deep breath. Luke needs to speak to him, has been trying to speak to him all morning. He types out a text and sends it.

_Sorry, I was asleep. You can come over any time, my mum’s out so just come in the front._

Luke quickly sends an _ok_ and within seconds, there’s a knock at the front door. Michael takes a deep breath and goes to the door, pulling it open.

Luke is still wearing the same clothes he wore last night, the shirt recycled from somewhere on his floor and his hair all messed up from sleeping on it. Michael is incredibly endeared as he lets him in and they go down the hall to his room even though they’ve got the entire house in all its six-roomed glory to themselves. They sit on his bed, Michael with his legs crossed and feet tucked underneath himself and Luke facing him, mirroring his position.

“Why’d you leave this morning?” Luke asks softly. Neither of them know where to start, how to start, this conversation.

“I don’t want to just make out with you sometimes,” Michael admits, his voice low. “I don’t want it to just be oh, we’re making out but we’re best mates. If you like me, don’t just kiss me and treat me like a plaything. Ask me out, or something.” He nearly mumbles the last part, his cheeks burning red because he’s sitting here, asking Luke to ask him out, and thereby admitting his crush.

“I was going to,” Luke says softly. “Today, when we both woke up. Well, actually, last night, but I got a little distracted kissing you and I was trying to stall because I was scared I’d ruin it.”

Michael looks at him and he doesn’t know what to say.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like that, and I’m really sorry I did. It was just really hard to get the nerves to ask you out because I don’t want to like, ruin everything with the both of us and have it be awkward for Calum. So I kind of wanted to make sure I actually did really, really like you and I do. I didn’t mean to like, lead you on or anything. I’m sorry.”

He feels like crying all over again. He was expecting the worst but he got the best possible outcome. “It’s okay,” he whispers in response.

Luke gives him a small smile, reaching over and taking his hands. His palms are sweaty and the sensation is kind of gross but the contact feels nice. “So, will you go out with me?” Michael doesn’t think he’ll ever get over how his cheeks are pink; he’s blushing.

“Of course.”

Luke wraps his arms around him with so much force that it nearly knocks Michael back into the headboard. He catches himself and cuddles into Luke, burying his face in the junction between his shoulder and neck and just breathes in his scent. His deodorant, his shampoo that he knows his mum buys for him. He shuts his eyes and reminds himself to breathe because he still hasn’t processed the fact that Luke just asked him out.

Luke pulls away first, kissing his temple gently. “Do you want to do something today?”

“What?” Michael asks softly, looking up at him.

“Do you want to go on a date today?” He reiterates with a fond smile.

“Sure, yeah.”

Luke beams. “Have you seen _Avengers_ yet?”

Michael shakes his head and Luke sighs dramatically.

“Dammit, that ruins my plans of just sitting in the back and making out with you,” he teases.

Michael laughs. “You’re a dork.”

“Now I’m your dork.”

“Yeah? Says who?”

“Says the fact you agreed to go on a date with me,” Luke smirks.

“Doesn’t mean you’re my boyfriend,” Michael pouts.

“Yet.”

Michael chuckles and pushes his face into Luke’s chest. He’s warm and he’s happy and now he’s going on a date with Luke, after waiting for two and a half years. After a few minutes of them just lying there, cuddled up together, he looks up at Luke, his heart fluttering when it starts to set in that he’s going on a date with him.

“When did you start liking me?” Michael murmurs.

“I dunno, I started kinda thinking you were like, hot last year, I think? And I didn’t really start liking you until the night Olivia broke up with me.”

Michael nods, trying his hardest not to grin like a complete idiot.

“When did you start liking me?” Luke counters.

He chuckles. “Two and a half years ago, about. After you started dating Olivia. At first I just sort of convinced myself I was jealous you were in a relationship and it was going really well but after a while I realized I was an idiot and I had a huge crush on you.”

“Two years ago?” Luke asks softly.

Michael nods, his cheeks warm.

Luke leans down and kisses him gently. “You’re so sweet.”

He beams and cuddles closer. “If we’re going on a date you might want to consider going home and showering,” he teases quietly.

“You’re right,” Luke huffs. “But I’d rather stay here with you.”

“I’ll look up movie times while you’re out.”

Luke pouts at him.

Michael rolls his eyes.  “I’ll even walk you home.”

He grins at that and nods, disentangling them and standing up. He pulls Michael up and presses a quick kiss to his lips, taking his hand and leading him out and back across the street, getting another goodbye kiss when they reach Luke’s driveway. Michael promises to text him the movie times and Luke tells him he’ll see him on their first date, which kind of makes Michael melt a little.

His mum comes home as he’s looking up movie times and wondering whether he should wear what he’s wearing now or whether he should change into that black shirt he got a couple weeks ago. He tells his mum he’s seeing a movie with Luke, leaving out the fact that it’s a date and he’s been sharing kisses with him because he doesn’t want her to freak out and end up choking their relationship before it even becomes one. He decides he’ll tell her when (if) they’re in an official relationship.

They decide on a time together and walk to the theatre hand-in-hand, which Michael finds so sweet. He was worried that Luke, after having been in a relationship with Olivia and assumed straight by their peers, would be hesitant about going out with Michael, maybe wouldn’t hold his hand or kiss him, but he was proven wrong.

It’s Michael’s first date but it’s perfect. They sit in the back and put their feet up on the backs of the empty seats in front of them and, even though it’s uncomfortable, Luke reaches over the armrest to hold his hand. And it’s an amazing movie and they kiss every now and then when there’s nothing really important happening, sharing a bag of popcorn as well and honestly, Michael can’t recall a lot of the plot because there were times Luke fed him bits of popcorn.

After the movie, they go back to Michael’s and cuddle up together on his bed, sharing lengthy kisses and giggling a little into each other’s mouths.

“Will you be my boyfriend?” Luke whispers after a little while, his hand in Michael’s hair.

“Mhm,” Michael murmurs. “Yeah.”

Luke smiles and kisses his head. “You need to touch your hair up,” he says softly.

It’s true, his roots have grown out a little too much and the green is really, really pale. “Yeah, but I don’t know what to do next and I don’t want to do green again.”

“Hmm,” Luke hums. “What colours would you never do?”

“Orange, probably. Too bright. Any suggestions?”

“I mean, I don’t know how you’d do it, but what about white?”

“I was thinking black, maybe. White would just be a lot of bleach and toner.”

“Would it like, completely fry your hair?”

“Nah, I could deal with it,” Michael shrugs.

“So go white.”

“But black…”

Luke pouts at him for a while, before sighing dramatically. “Whatever you decide to do is fine,” he teases, but Michael knows he means it.

Michael curls closer to him, Luke’s fingers playing gently with his hair and it feels really nice. “Maybe I could do both? Like some white and some black?”

“That sounds good, but you’d look good bald.”

Michael chuckles. “So would you.”

Luke rolls his eyes. “What are your plans then?”

“I have an idea but it’s a surprise.”

“Worst boyfriend ever,” Luke groans.

Michael beams and they cuddle closer together, ending up attached at the lips for the last little bit of their date. Luke leaves for dinner and Michael texts Calum about the date and Calum replies with a small _told you so_ , and then Michael thanks him for giving him that push to reply to Luke and they have a small conversation before he starts to do his homework. He finds it hard to do his homework, though, because he can’t stop thinking about how he’s finally, finally, Luke’s boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know the amount of times they say "sap" in this fic is ridiculous honestly but! let me know what you think of this with comments and kudos and come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	8. 295 096 604m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so this chapter contains possible underage depending how you look at it but there's no full on sex and i'm just gonna apologize for that

The next weekend, when it’s finally beginning to settle in that Luke is his boyfriend and after he’s told his mum, who just smiles and says, “about time,” he dyes his hair. Michael spends Friday evening with bleach in his hair and waits until Saturday to tone it to white and it turns out really well for his first try doing it. And after that, he dyes a section down the middle black and he uses nearly all the tinfoil in the house and his mum’s old hair clips and he stains his old shirt, but it was already covered in splotches of blue and green so honestly he feels a bit like it’ll end up as an actual tie-dye by graduation.

When Michael goes over to Luke’s to show him, they spend the rest of their Saturday on his bed, with Luke’s fingers and nose tangled in his hair, claiming he loves the smell of the post-dyed strands. Luke tells him he loves it, calls it beautiful, calls him beautiful, and Michael’s heart beats in a rhythm of _I love you_ , because he really, really does love Luke. (Of course, they’ve been dating for a week tomorrow, so he thinks telling him at this point might be just a little bit too early.)

Luke tells his parents he’s dating Michael a week after they start dating, just because he wanted to be sure about it, and he texts him through it. The next time Michael is over, Liz and Andy ask about their relationship, presumably to make sure their son won’t get his heart broken again, and Michael explains that he can’t imagine breaking up with Luke all while patting Pancake. They, of course, smile, and tell him that they trust him and they’re glad Luke found him.

Winter fades into spring and sometime after Michael’s birthday when they’re on the cusp of summer, there’s some carnival-thing in town and Michael takes Luke, even though it’s a half-hour on public transit.

There aren’t any huge rollercoasters or anything and the closest thing to it is the Dragon-Coaster that has a queue full of seven year olds and their parents but they have some fun things. They also have the all-time favourite: completely rigged carnival games. By the time their knees are too wobbly to go on another ride without the very real possibility of vomiting up those mini-doughnuts, Michael has maybe twenty dollars left, if he’s lucky.

They sit under a tree in the shade, sharing lemonade, while they catch their breath.

“Do you want to go home when we’re done this?” Michael asks, passing him the perspiring lemonade back.

Luke shakes his head as he sips. “No way, we’ve only been here for like an hour.”

“You were almost sick after that last ride.”

Luke shoots him a look. “I was just thirsty, loser,” he mumbles, and Michael would definitely be offended if it weren’t so fake and adorable.

Michael kisses his cheek and pulls him closer. “Let’s waste the rest of our money on crappy games that we won’t win, yeah?”

“Sounds good,” he hums, cuddling into him.

They toss the empty lemonade in an overflowing trash can when they get up, going to the middle of the grounds, holding tightly to each other’s hands as they made their way through all the other people there. It’s hot, starting to come up to December (Michael reminds himself that their four month anniversary is in a week), and before they get to the games, they stand in a too-long line to get a bottle of water each.

They start off with the harder games, just so that winning at the easier games will be even sweeter, and they don’t win anything at all. When they get to the easier games, which is dominated by a crowd of seven year olds, Luke wins a small prize, which is really just a cheaply assembled pink starfish plush toy and Michael wins a little yellow duck. For their last round through the grounds, Michael plays one of the medium difficulty games and ends up winning a big blue dog, which he gifts to Luke for all his support during the game.

Once they’re done games, Luke pulls the last few ride tickets out of his pocket and counts them. Then he grabs Michael’s hand and leads him through the grounds, over to the incredibly long line for the Ferris Wheel. It’s full of little kids and their parents, and of course, a conglomeration of boy-girl couples, which immediately makes Michael feel conscious of their linked hands. (It’s not that he’s uncomfortable with PDA, it’s that he worries Luke is, until he squeezes his hand and kisses his cheek.)

“We’re going on the Ferris Wheel?” Michael asks.

Luke nods, smiling like he’s all proud of himself. “If every cheesy movie shows the couple going on a Ferris Wheel, we’re going on a Ferris Wheel.”

“They usually go at night, babe, when it’s all dark and ambient.”

“So? At night this place is filled with drunk assholes, it’s better during the day with little kids and no _ambience_.”

Michael chuckles as the line shifts up further as they load more people on and a parent has to carry away their wailing toddler. After forever in a hot line, where they get multiple looks from a few people (but they make a game of it and kiss every time they get a look), they finally get on the Ferris Wheel. The seat is hot from the sun and it wobbles because Luke ignores the sign on the back of the cart in front of them and rocks it just a little.

They get to the top, their hands linked together between their legs, and Luke leans over and kisses him like in all those cheesy movies he was referencing earlier. Michael laughs into the kiss and pulls away when they start moving again, enduring the teasing he gets from Luke about how he was scared. Once they’re back on the ground and they pass the endless queue of people waiting to get on, they start towards the tree again to cool down because the ride did nothing to ease the heat except put them directly in the sun.

Their water bottles are warm by the time they’re sitting under the tree again, cooling down before they start walking to the bus stop.

“This was fun,” Luke smiles, sipping at his water.

“No, this place totally blows,” Michael says sarcastically, chuckling. “I’m kidding. It’s great, I had fun.”

Luke beams. “I’m glad. And you blow.”

He shoots him a playfully offended look. “I blow? You blow.”

“I’d blow you,” he grins mischievously.

Michael pauses, because he really doesn’t know what to say, and Luke starts laughing while he flounders for a response.

“Your face is priceless!” Luke laughs.

His cheeks burn. “That was so out of nowhere!” He can’t help but laugh because Luke is.

Luke’s laughing fizzles out with chuckles. “Yeah, but it’s true.”

And Michael once again doesn’t know how to react. “Wait, really?” They’ve never really talked about sex, or sex-related things before, and now it’s brought up out of nowhere in a crowded fairground.

“Yeah.”

Michael blushes and Luke chuckles again.

“We’ll talk about this more when we get home.”

He nods and stands up, taking Luke’s hand and squeezing while he holds his duck in his other hand and Luke cradles his dog and starfish in his elbow. They walk to the bus stop together and it’s blessedly air conditioned when the bus arrives after a ten minute wait.

For once, Luke’s house is empty when they get there with Pancake the only member of their greeting party. Michael knows that his mum had plans with Liz and Andy for the day and he doesn’t really think to ask where Luke’s brothers are when he presses him up against the wall and kisses him hard. Michael thinks he’s still a little sweaty from a day in the sun to be making out so soon but he really does love the way Luke kisses him.

He pulls away shortly after, looking at him with those gorgeous blue eyes. “Right,” he whispers to himself. “We should talk about this.”

Michael doesn’t think they really have to – he’s definitely willing to let making out take them where it will – but it probably is the best thing to do. He nods, joining Luke on his bed.

“So are you like, ready to take things past making out?” Luke asks.

“Yeah,” Michael says softly.

“Tell me to stop anytime if you change your mind.”

He nods again and he lets Luke press him onto the bed, their lips meeting about halfway down. It’s really soft, tentative, because they both know that this is only going to end one way and it’ll be with come across their chests and their panting lips inches apart. It’s odd that he’s going to see Luke naked, or mostly naked, today. They’ve seen each other naked by accident but that was before puberty, when their bodies were still childish and lanky.

Once they both kind of accept that this is going to happen, that they won’t stop once they feel the beginnings of arousal, things heat up. Luke’s hands reach from their usual post at Michael’s waist all the way down to the curve of his ass and Michael wastes no time disposing of their shirts. Luke leans down, kneeling over Michael’s body, and lets his lips trail down his jaw and neck to his chest, his teeth carefully nipping at the skin and making Michael hiss.

Luke chuckles softly, sucking a mark there and Michael is definitely hard now, his cock straining against his jeans. (He’s now worrying that he’ll come in seconds once Luke starts touching him.)

“God,” Luke breathes, his eyes fluttering shut when he pulls off Michael’s chest. “I’m so hard.”

Michael reaches up, from where his hands are on the bed, and works at Luke’s zipper, getting his pants undone in seconds as Luke watches him. He’s just about to push his pants down and reveal Luke’s skinny legs in those black boxer-briefs he got a peak of earlier when Luke starts undoing his pants as well, and because Luke is above him and has a better angle, his pants are gone almost instantly.

It’s a strange moment, really, but Luke reaches down, taking his cock into his hand and Michael gasps, his teeth digging into his lip as he repeats _don’t come_ in his mind like a fucking mantra. Luke starts moving his hand, slowly, testing the waters, and Michael shuts his eyes and tilts his head back, thinking of all the times he wanked off in the shower to thoughts of being in a situation like this with Luke.

“You look so good like this,” Luke breathes, moving his hand a little faster.

Michael whines. “You,” he gasps out. “I want to get you off.”

Luke smirks but pauses long enough that Michael can send a coherent thought to his hands other than to clench up so he doesn’t come. He tugs Luke’s pants down and there’s a small wet patch on his boxers, which he discovers is precome from a test with his thumb. Luke is nearly silent, just watching Michael with his mouth hanging slightly open and his eyes dark. It’s really hot.

He loses all ability to fathom thoughts that are longer than two words or a string of profanities when Luke moves his hand again, twisting his wrist a little. He tries to keep up with Luke’s pace, tries to keep his hand moving at the same rhythm, but he falters almost too often, which makes him worry somewhere behind all that warm pressure if Luke is enjoying this as much as he is. Michael is whining and gasping, a complete mess, but Luke is mostly stoic, gasping and gritting his teeth every now and then when Michael isn’t losing the beat of it. He’s muttering endearments to Michael as well, telling him he’s gorgeous and it really isn’t helping.

Luke leans down to kiss him when Michael is starting to feel a tight heat low in his belly and he comes over his chest and onto Luke’s hand with a bitten-off gasp. Luke brushes over the head of his cock as he finishes and Michael tries to move his hand quicker, tries to find a rhythm so their orgasms aren’t miles apart. He gets Luke to come seconds later, their faces close together so he can hear the breathy moan he lets out as he comes into Michael’s hand.

There’s a second after they’re both done and before the come streaked over their bodies has started to feel disgusting, where they’re both just breathing. No more whines, no more gasps and no more little endearments. They’re panting softly and Luke cracks a smile, leaning his forehead down against Michael’s as their highs fade away and he opens his eyes, the smile bright in his eyes.

Luke hands him a few tissues and pecks his lips. They clean up before they cuddle together, Michael starting to feel hungry and it’s quiet but it isn’t awkward.

“That was an amazing first handjob,” Luke says after a while, carding his hand through Michael’s hair.

“That was your first?” Michael asks softly. He’d assumed that being with Olivia for two years meant that they’d gotten to at least third base.

Luke nods. “Mhm.”

“But you and Olivia?”

“She’s waiting for marriage.”

Michael nods, chuckling softly and laying his head on Luke’s chest. He won’t admit that the fact he was the first person to get Luke off makes him feel kind of proud and kind of special because he thinks that just being around Luke makes him feel special.

“Are you going to nap?” Michael asks after a while. It’s getting close to dinner and Liz left them twenty dollars to order their own pizza.

Luke shakes his head, his eyes fixed on Michael and his expression is soft and makes his heart melt. “Nah, are you?”

Michael shakes his head as well and leans up to kiss him gently, just so he can taste that expression. He doesn’t admit to himself that he feels special for giving Luke his first handjob, but he will admit that he’s madly in love with him and it isn’t going to change.

 

Of course, being in love with Luke years before they were in a relationship presents a bit of a problem. There are times when they’re kissing or when they’re just talking and the words come up in his throat and he has to bite them back. He doesn’t know if it’s appropriate to tell him early and he doesn’t want to stumble upon an awkward situation where he’s said it and Luke is shocked into silence because doesn’t feel the same way.

Michael resolves to tell him on their four month anniversary because he remembers Luke had fallen head over heels for Olivia in two months. He’s conflicted about how to tell him, whether to make it special and romantic or keep it simple, something that doesn’t feel like it’s fresh out of a Hollywood film but something that feels like them. In the end (the day before their anniversary, during first block maths) he decides that he’ll keep it simple and make it very _them_.

During lunch, while he’s picking at a dry ham and cheese sandwich he threw together before school, he listens to Calum talk about how his first date with Zoe at the same carnival Michael and Luke went to. He did the same cheesy boyfriend thing Michael did and gave her his prize from one of the games.

“But the damn thing is tearing already,” Calum sighs. “She hasn’t even touched it, really, and all the stuffing is coming out.”

“Mine, too,” Luke frowns, sipping at his juice box.

Michael frowns. “Which one?” He asks.

“The dog,” Luke pouts.

Michael makes a mental note to replace it. “That’s shitty, I’m sorry.”

Luke sucks the last bit of juice out of the juice box, smiling and laying his head on his shoulder.

Calum rolls his eyes. “ _Anyway_ ,” he says and Michael knows he’s teasing. “She’s my girlfriend now.”

“Aw, Calum, that’s great,” Michael smiles.

Luke nods and the conversation veers that way, to when they’ll get to meet her as Calum’s girlfriend instead of as the girl Calum likes. Michael manages to eat his sandwich and apple, and he manages through the last two blocks of school. Normally, he walks home with Luke after school, since they live so close, but Luke is picked up by his mum right after Michael gets a chance to kiss him goodbye for a dentist appointment.

Michael purposely misses his turnoff to go home. Instead, he keeps walking into town until he gets to the store, the five dollars in his pocket feeling heavy and he’s kind of thirsty. The store is lovely and air conditioned when he steps in, walking to the coolers a few aisles in, passing a display of stuffed animals. He pauses in front of it and scans it, remembering his mental note to replace Luke’s dog stuffed animal from the carnival. He doesn’t really know what Luke’s favourite animal is but his email address does include _penguin_ so he scans for any penguins but there aren’t any.

He picks up the biggest one there in lieu of a penguin, which ends up being a big bunny with its little arms outstretched for a hug. It’s not the sort of thing he imagines he might find in Luke’s room but it’ll replace the crappy dog anyway. It’s softer, too, and when he checks the price tag it’s only ten dollars, and he has a twenty dollar note in his backpack. He carries it with him to grab a Coke, and buys it. (The cashier asks him if it’s for his girlfriend.)

After school the next day, Luke comes over to Michael’s and they celebrate four months together, which is really more than Michael would’ve ever thought he’d get being Luke’s boyfriend. They play some video games together, make out a little and whine about the heat before Michael remembers he’s got something for Luke.

“Stay here,” he says, kissing Luke’s cheek.

Luke frowns. “I swear to God, if it’s a present.” They promised, on their one month anniversary, that gifts would only be for yearly anniversaries. Michael doesn’t think that replacing an unrelated gift counts as an anniversary present.

He grabs the bunny and sits next to him. “It’s to replace the dog I got you at the carnival.”

Luke makes the cutest face and pulls it close. “You’re absolutely evil,” he says, leaning into him.

“It’s not an anniversary present.”

“You didn’t have to replace it,” Luke says, looking up at him. “Honestly. It’s a poorly made dog.”

“But I won it for you and you should have something to cuddle in case I can’t be there.”

Luke pulls him close. “You’re a sap and shut up, you’ll always be right here when I need a cuddle.”

Michael chuckles a little, laying his head on Luke’s shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he says without a hitch, and Michael beams into his shoulder. “Been waiting for you to say that for a long time.”

He chuckles. “And you call me the sap.”

Luke pulls away and kisses him. “I do call you a sap, because you’re, like, a bit of water away from being kidnapped by the Canadians for their syrup factories.”

Michael smiles widely, kissing him again. Luke loves him back and he’s so glad that his dad got a better job here and he’s so glad he moved in across the street. (Secretly, he thinks Luke is the light of his life, but that might be sappy, even for him.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you think of this with comments, kudos or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)
> 
> also prepare yourselves for what's ahead


	9. 294 938 819m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so it begins....

The day of their six month anniversary in February, Luke shows up to school looking like death. He didn’t meet Michael to walk to school, and he shows up halfway through first block, a beanie pushed over his hair and his face pale and tired. Michael worries immediately but he’s assured that Luke is probably just coming down with something and he gets a reassuring smile and a small squeeze of his hand.

At lunch, he fusses more.

“Did you sleep well last night?” Michael asks softly, squeezing his shoulder gently.

Luke nods, yawning. “Yeah, I went to bed early. And then I overslept. I’m probably just coming down with something, don’t worry.”

Michael definitely worries when he sees Luke hardly gets through half his lunch before he tosses it out and he worries when he struggles to pick up his textbook-filled backpack, helping him lift it onto his back. After lunch, he gets a text from Luke telling him that he went home and he can come and visit after school but he’ll probably be asleep. There’s once again a reminder not to worry.

He goes to Luke’s after school, even though he’s probably asleep, and he gives Pancake a little cuddle before he goes back to Luke’s room to calm his nerves. Michael knows, rationally, that Luke probably has a cold or something, because fatigue and a loss of appetite are Luke’s most common symptoms whenever he has a cold. He also knows that Luke is a teenage boy, that he’s going through growth spurts and that oftentimes he’ll get tired because his body grows most while he’s asleep.

Michael knocks softly on Luke’s door, and he doesn’t get an answer, so he steps in to find Luke curled up in bed, holding his stuffed bunny to his chest. He feels like kind of a creep for the amount of time he spends there in the doorway but he’s never really known Luke to nap. There was a time last year when Luke got three hours of sleep before a school day and he left early to take a nap but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t nap.

He leaves Luke the homework he missed before he goes back out, going home to worry there.

Luke doesn’t show up to school the next day but he texts through the day when he isn’t napping, explaining that he woke up with a fever and some dizziness and his mum thought he should stay home. He asks Michael to bring the homework he misses and Michael really doesn’t mind that he’ll be exposing himself to whatever Luke has, which seems pretty nasty.

When he gets to Luke’s house after school, Luke is in bed, shivering even though he’s wrapped up in a blanket and sipping tea. Michael frowns and sits next to him, pulling him close.

“You’re going to get sick too,” Luke whispers.

“Whatever,” Michael murmurs, rubbing his back. “I’ll be fine.”

Luke leans into him. “You brought my homework?”

“It’s in my backpack.”

Luke nods, yawning and cuddling close. He isn’t shivering anymore, which Michael takes as a good sign as he continues rubbing his back and pulling him in close.

After a few minutes, Luke pulls away, wiping at his nose and sighing when it came back bloody. “Dammit,” he mumbles, grabbing a tissue from the box and pressing it against his nose.

“Are you okay?” Michael asks.

“Nosebleed,” he sighs.

Michael brushes a hand through his hair as he presses tissues to his nose in an attempt to stem the flow of blood. His trash is soon full of blood-stained tissues and Michael tries to comfort him anyway possible.

Once his nosebleed is finished, Luke leans against Michael, sighing. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“Why?” Michael asks softly, kissing his head. His hair is dirty and it smells like he hasn’t showered in a little while, but Michael forgives him.

“I ruined our six months,” he mumbles. “And like, six months is pretty good for two kids.”

“You didn’t ruin anything.”

“But –”

Michael cuts him off by pressing a finger to his lips. “You didn’t ruin our six month anniversary. We’ll celebrate it when you’re better. We’ll do something cheesy as hell and we’ll go out for dinner and a movie together and pretend like we’re adults.”

Luke smiles and shuts his eyes. “I seriously love you a lot.”

“I love you too,” he says, kissing his forehead.

“I’m going to fall asleep.”

Michael lies down with him, letting Luke stay wrapped up like a burrito in his blanket and he holds him to his chest, playing with his hair until he falls asleep.

It takes Luke another couple of days before he returns to school and when he does it’s obvious that he’s still sick. He takes his time standing, he still looks tired and pale and he gets breathless really easily. He gets a sick note to excuse him from PE, which makes Michael really, really worried because he knows how much Luke enjoys PE and how he never really wants to miss it, even when he was eleven and he got the flu.

When they celebrate their six month anniversary, six days late, Michael decides a night in is the best idea and they lie in Luke’s bed together, cuddled up and watching a movie off his laptop. They both get too warm and discard their shirts, though Michael worries that Luke’s fever has returned. He rests his head on Luke’s chest as they watch the movie, his hand resting on Luke’s stomach and his skin is cooler than he’d expect with their legs covered by blankets and his laptop sitting on his legs.

Luke seems well that night. He seems like he was never sick in the first place, no fever and no dizziness, but it isn’t the same in the morning. Michael notes, while they’re walking together and Luke is panting a little, that Luke is thinner than he was a month before and he worries all over again. He worries that Luke has an eating disorder and he worries that Luke is sicker than anyone is imagining and he worries about his worrying.

The next day, Luke complains a little about his symptoms on their way to school and Michael tries to reassure him through all his anxiety that he’s completely fine, that he’s probably got some nasty cold that’ll blow over within the next week. He loses the last shred of confidence he has about Luke’s sickness disappears when they get to school.

Luke hardly makes it up the stairs to get to his locker. He holds on tight to the railing and he’s breathing heavily by the time they get to the top.

“I have to sit down,” he mumbles.

Michael helps him over to the wall, where Luke lowers himself down to the ground and leans against the wall. “What’s wrong?” He asks, rubbing his back.

“I’m so dizzy and I’m out of breath and my heart is racing.”

“Put your head between your knees,” Michael guides. He’s really glad they got to school with fifteen minutes to spare before class starts.

Luke lowers his head between his knees and Michael feels like there should be a joke, some sort of innuendo in there and he misses it.

Michael stays beside him, helping him loosen his tie and resting his hand on his back as he wonders what the hell to do. He’ll miss the beginning of school if he walks Luke home and he doesn’t want to let him walk home alone. Calum starts up the stairs and notices them, stopping a few steps in front of them.

“Is he okay?” Calum asks.

Michael opens his mouth to say something when Luke speaks up. “Can you get Jack?” He asks, his voice shaking.

“Jack? Yeah, I’ll get him,” Calum says. “Do you need anything else?”

“Some water?”

Calum nods. “Yeah, I’ll be back.”

Michael rubs Luke’s back as he sits up, his face strained. He wishes there was more he could do for him but all he can do is stay with him and brush the hair off his forehead and hold his hand. He watches Calum return with a bottle of water from the vending machine and Luke’s older brother in tow.

“What happened?” Jack asks as Calum hands him the water. He immediately passes it to Michael for him to open.

“I don’t know,” Luke says, taking a sip of the water after Michael hands it back to him. “I felt okay this morning, good enough for school, but now I’m so fucking dizzy.”

Michael looks over at him. Luke got grounded for swearing once and ever since then he’s never sworn around his parents or his brothers even though his brothers are obviously more tolerant.

“Is it that cold or whatever?” Jack asks.

Luke nods, looking like he’s on the verge of tears. Michael rubs his back again. His least favourite thing in the world is seeing Luke upset.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Jack assures. “I’ll give you a ride home, I’ve got a spare first block. Can you walk?”

Luke nods again and Michael helps him stand, promising to bring his homework to him later and he watches him go down the stairs and out of view with Jack.

Michael sighs once they’re out of sight, looking at Calum, and his worry has escalated to a climax (though he worries this isn’t even the worst of it).

“Is it just a cold, or what?” Calum asks, walking towards their lockers.

“I don’t know,” Michael says softly. “He says it is and his mum thinks it is, but… I dunno. Maybe it’s just the flu or something.”

Calum nods. “Yeah, probably. I hope he’s okay.”

“He’s good at bouncing back from things; he’ll be fine.”

The bell rings and Michael spends the day counting down the minutes until he can see Luke again, bouncing his knee and biting at his lip. He spends a few minutes after school collecting Luke’s homework before he walks quickly over to Luke’s, knowing he’s probably asleep but wanting to see him anyway.

Pancake meows around his feet when he walks in and he toes off his shoes beside Luke’s, reaching down to pat her head before he goes to Luke’s room, knocking gently on the door because he’s probably asleep. He’s met with a small grunt and he smiles a little, opening the door slowly and going into Luke’s room. He’s on the bed, his eyes half-lidded and fatigued and his face ashen and his hair all messed up. He didn’t even bother changing, really, he just took his clothes off and fell into bed in just his boxers.

“Mikey,” Luke smiles, all tired and cute.

Michael smiles. “Hey, babe,” he says softly, sliding his backpack onto the floor and sitting on the edge of his bed next to him. He’s pretty sure whatever Luke has isn’t contagious but he’s still wary of it.

Luke lays his head on Michael’s lap and he’s immediately reminded of the blowjobs they exchanged a few weeks ago before Luke was sick. (He wonders whether he has some dormant STD that he passed onto Luke and immediately feels guilty.)

“How do you feel?” He asks, petting Luke’s hair.

He grunts again. “Okay. Not so dizzy anymore but I’m tired and every time I get up to go to the bathroom I feel like I’m going to faint.”

Michael frowns, kissing his head. He’s got a fever again. “You should go to the doctor, love.”

“Mum made me an appointment already,” Luke says. “Jack called her when he brought me home.”

He nods. “When?”

“Monday. God, I hope I don’t ruin Valentine’s Day, too.”

“Hey, Lukey,” Michael whispers. “Even if you’re so sick I can’t even see you Valentine’s Day you won’t have ruined it. It’s not your fault that you’re sick, it’s your dumb immune system’s fault.”

Luke buries his face in Michael’s stomach. “You’re too sweet. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

After a little while longer, Michael reads to Luke until he falls asleep and leaves, putting his homework on his desk for him.

 

Needless to say, Luke isn’t at school on Monday. Michael gets texts throughout the morning, punctuated with frowny face emojis and many little ‘sighs’ because he has to wait to be seen and he doesn’t feel well. He gets a text halfway through math class pouting because he has to have a blood test and Michael texts all his sympathy and wishes he could cut math to be there with him and hold his hand. A few minutes after, he gets a text riddled with typos about how he did it and about how he fucking hates needles.

Luke feels a little bit better on Valentine’s Day and Michael comes over after school to watch movies with him. Luke fades in and out of sleep the entire afternoon and only eats half a piece of pizza, which Michael reminds himself is just whatever’s making Luke sick. Partway through the evening, when they’re about a quarter into _Scott Pilgrim vs. the World_ , Luke’s mum comes in with the house phone, telling him it’s the doctor with his blood test results.

Michael takes that time to go to the bathroom to give Luke space because he doesn’t have to know everything about his health and he doesn’t want to accidentally eavesdrop or make it awkward for Luke. When he comes back, Luke is wrapped up in his mum’s arms, his face even paler than it normally is in his sickness, the phone on the bed beside them. His mum is patting his hair and Michael turns away, deciding to give them a moment and indulge Pancake, who’s walking around his feet.

He goes back when he hears Liz come out of Luke’s room and go to the kitchen to talk to Andy. Luke is fiddling with his laptop charger and Michael sits next to him, pulling him close as his unease spikes.

“Everything okay?” He asks softly, fighting to keep the anxiety out of his voice.

Luke nods. “Just a follow-up appointment that’s going to mean even bigger needles,” he pouts.

Michael kisses his nose. “When is it?”

“Tomorrow, nine AM.”

“I wish I could come and hold your hand. Text me after?”

Luke nods. “Yeah, I’ll try, but it sounds like they’re going to drug me up a bit.”

Michael really doesn’t like the sound of that. “It’s not surgery, is it?”

“No, it’s just another test that includes big needles and they’re going to give me something to calm down since I nearly cried yesterday.”

Michael peppers kisses to his head. “Call me, then. I have English first block and all we’re doing is reading.”

“I’ll try. Now can we finish the movie? It’s one of my favourites.”

He nods, kissing his head again and pressing play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really really hope you enjoyed it and i hope you stick around for what's to come. please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	10. 294 938 795m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay disclaimer i totally get it if you don't want to read on after this you can totally definitely look at this fic the way you want to and if the way you want to is just a cute small fluffy thing then by all means i won't stop you
> 
> also you may notice the chapter titles are increasingly similar for every chapter for a while and the nature of the titles is at fault so i'm sorry for any confusion that may cause!!! enjoy!

Luke calls after his appointment the next day, and he definitely sounds groggy. Michael steps outside, where there are a few kids smoking and they give him looks, but he just tries to talk to Luke for as long as he can, trying to understand his slurred speech. He ends up reading to him even though his class is reading a completely different book, just to stay on the line with him until he’s told he can leave.

He goes over again after school to drop off homework and he talks about the procedure with Luke and asks when results will be in. Luke is sweet and cuddly as he tells him they should be in tomorrow, maybe the day after if things were running slow. Michael sees the bandage on his back on the back of his hip, along with a few pinprick red dots on his skin and he guesses those are just a side effect from something they gave him or something they did.

Liz stays home from work the next day and Michael worries his way through school that day while Luke is off at his doctor’s appointment, receiving his diagnosis. Michael receives a text sometime after Luke’s appointment telling him that he should come over later, probably in the evening or something, instead of directly after school. Of course, his worry increases, and he spends most of the afternoon out with Calum to distract himself but he finds it really hard to stop worrying about Luke.

At seven in the evening, when Michael is contemplating showering and doing Luke’s homework, he gets a text that means he can go over to Luke’s. Michael has settled on his own diagnosis of mono for Luke, which he decides isn’t bad, it just means he might come down with it. Confident that his worry has been for nothing, he goes over to Luke’s house, and he’s let in by Andy, who gives him a shaky smile and guides him back to Luke’s room.

Luke is curled up in bed, holding his stuffed bunny to his chest and he’s spacing off, his eyes fixated on the space where the wall meets the floor. It’s not the emotion Michael was expecting, honestly, and he looks up when Michael walks in, biting his bottom lip hard.

“Hey,” Michael says, sitting next to him. This moment is the one he was most afraid of: the moment before he’s told what Luke was told hours earlier because he doesn’t know what to expect. Is it some sort of new strain of flu? Is it mono? His heart is racing in his chest.

“Hi,” Luke whispers, taking a deep breath. There’s red around his eyes and the tip of his nose is red as well. He’s been crying.

It hits Michael that this could be life altering. He reaches over and wraps his hand around Luke’s. “What’s wrong? What’s been making you feel so bad?”

Luke sets his jaw and looks away. “So, uhm,” he pauses. “Fuck, I don’t know how to say this.” He sounds desperate and frustrated. “Mum did it for me earlier because she was with me and I don’t know how to tell you and I have to.”

Michael squeezes his hand. “It’s okay.” He can’t promise he won’t cry or run off or something.

“Just… I totally get it if you want to break up with me after this, okay? You can break up with me if you want to.”

“Luke, please tell me.” His heart is pounding in his chest and he almost feels sick from worry.

Luke forces himself to look at him, his blue eyes wide and terrified. “I have leukemia,” he says quietly, his eyes filling with tears. “And they think I’ll be okay, but it’s going to be like, two years of treatment and I understand if you want to break up, honestly.”

Michael’s grip on his hand tightens as his chest does, squeezing all the air out of his lungs. “What?” He whispers. _No_.

“It’s called acute lympho-something leukemia and it’s got a good survival rate,” Luke goes on, his voice thick and his eyes blinking fast to keep the tears at bay. “In a couple of days, I’m going to be admitted to the hospital for treatment.”

There’s a pause as Michael struggles to comprehend it.

“I’m so sorry,” Luke whispers, his voice breaking as the tears spill over.

“No,” Michael breathes, pulling Luke to his chest because he can’t bear to see him cry. “No, it’s okay.”

Luke sniffles, pulling him close as Michael tries to wrap his head around it. Leukemia was, to the best of his understanding (which really wasn’t much), blood cancer and he pulls Luke in tighter when he realizes that his blood, which was supposed to deliver oxygen to his organs and brain and things, had turned poisonous and would kill him. And it wasn’t like a tumorous cancer where the tumour was removed and it was like in the movies where it was just a few months of chemotherapy. Luke’s blood couldn’t be siphoned out of his body and replaced with healthy blood.

“It’s okay,” Michael whispers again, shutting his eyes tight. It was such a miracle to be born and to be born with a functioning body with all the right parts in all the right places and now it was like the world’s biggest practical joke; waving wellness in Luke’s face for almost sixteen years before ripping it away and giving it conditionally after years of treatment.

Luke pulls away again, looking at him. “Don’t promise me right now that you’re not going to break up with me,” he whispers. “Think about it for a while ‘cause this is huge and I don’t want you to feel like you’re stuck.”

Michael wants to argue and promise Luke right now that he’d never let him go because he loves him, but he has a point. This is huge, especially for two kids and he doesn’t know if he can handle it. “Okay,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to Luke’s forehead.

There’s a pause where Michael just holds Luke, trying to memorize the way he feels in his arms. He doesn’t want to think about it

“How’d your family take it?” He asks softly, managing to keep the thickness out of his voice, remembering that he didn’t see Liz when he walked in and she was usually on the couch. He’s trying to get his mind off it.

Luke sighs. “Mum cried at the doctor and she went to lie down after she told mum and Jack. Dad gave me a big hug and got a beer and Jack cried.”

Michael frowns. “Jack cried?” Jack was the kind of guy who played sports and seemed so into masculinity that even things such as crying were probably saved for times when he was alone.

“Yeah, it was insane. And Ben is coming down from school tomorrow. He doesn’t know yet.”

Michael nods, pulling Luke close and lying back, carding his fingers through his hair. “So you’re going to be okay?”

“Yeah, they’re pretty sure. I have another test tomorrow after school and then I’m meeting with all my doctors for the first time and they’re talking about the side effects of the meds I’ll be taking.”

Michael nods. “Are you coming to school, then?”

“Mhm,” he hums. “But we’re going to talk to the principal and stuff because I’ll be out of school for a while.”

He doesn’t like the sound of that but he guesses it’s for the best if it means Luke will get better. “I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you too.”

Over the next little while, they talk more about what this will mean for them until Michael ends up reading to him. He glances at the clock after a while and it tells him he’s nearly ten so he pauses to check for any texts from his mum about coming home but there’s none. And when the clock tells him it’s ten and his mum should really have texted, there’s still silence and Luke is asleep on his chest, so he stops reading. He should go home but he doesn’t want to leave Luke here, even though he knows he’ll be okay. If Luke were going to die tonight, he’d be a lot sicker than he is, there would be more warning.

Luke’s bedroom door opens and Liz pokes her head in. Michael is immediately conscious of their position, even though they were caught making out a few months ago and all they’re doing right now is cuddling.

“Hi,” she whispers. She has a tissue tucked into her hand and she looks like she’s been crying. Michael doesn’t blame her.

“Hey,” he says softly, watching her sit on the edge of his bed near where his legs are tangled together with Luke’s.

“Thank you for staying with him and helping him sleep. I didn’t think he would be able to, given everything.”

Michael nods. “It’s no problem, really. He’s not hard to put to sleep.”

She smiles. “He’s been like that since he was a baby.”

Michael just offers a small smile in return, unsure of how to respond.

“You should get home. It’s late and you’ve got school tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” he says softly, pressing a gentle kiss to Luke’s head. “Thank you for letting me come over and stuff.”

Once he untangles himself carefully from Luke, Liz wraps her arms around him and he hugs her back, trying to tell her he’s sorry with just his arms. “We’ll keep you updated tomorrow. Hopefully we’ll be home.”

He nods. “Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She kisses his head as she lets go. “Have a good night, Michael.”

“You too,” he smiles, leaving Luke’s homework on his desk and taking his backpack, going across the street and home.

He drops his backpack in his room and considers going straight to bed but his mind is still racing. He goes into the kitchen and he can hear his mum in the bathroom, preparing for bed, and he makes himself tea, just to calm down.

His mum comes out of the bathroom and into the kitchen as he watches the kettle, holding a teabag in his hands, and she comes over to him and wraps her arm around his shoulders. “I thought I heard you come in,” she says softly. “Are you okay?”

Michael shrugs, leaning into her grip. He might be a teenager, but today was hard.

“Liz called me while you were over,” she says. “Told me about Luke… I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m here for you if you need to talk, okay?”

He nods, pulling away so he can pour the water into his mug.

“Are you going to stay with him?”

“I think so, yeah,” he says softly.

“You don’t have to.”

He nods, pulling on the string gently to make the bag bob up and down in the water. “I know.”

She kisses his cheek, having to lean up to do it. “I love you very, very much. Sleep tight.”

He leans into her, wrapping an arm around her. “Night.”

She goes down the hall to bed and Michael sits at the table and sips his tea until he feels drowsy. It takes him another good hour to fall asleep and he knows it’ll hit him harder in the morning when he has to wake up early for school.

Michael sees Luke at school after second block next day, walks through the halls with him and holds his hand, savouring the time he gets with him today because he might not get to see him again tonight. After school, Luke is picked up by his mum and they drive down to the hospital and Michael hangs out with Calum again, going out to a movie with him (which really sucks because Calum doesn’t know yet and he doesn’t want to be the one to break the news to him and Luke should tell him).

He gets texts from Luke throughout the evening and his sleepover with Calum, telling him he’s invited to dinner tomorrow night and there’s a lot he has to talk about. Michael worries that he’ll break up with Luke, even though he’s been thinking about it and he doesn’t want to, but if there’s a lot to talk about tomorrow it could change things. He promises Calum that Luke is fine and Luke will tell him the diagnosis soon before they fall asleep, Michael with his phone cradled in his hand, just in case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well isn't this turning into an emotional rollercoaster here. please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	11. 294 938 783m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now we're in the swing of things and it's starting to get fun~

Michael notes before he goes over to Luke’s the next day that his hair is fading out, that he has to touch up the white, and he makes a mental note to buy more dye soon. He goes over to Luke’s around three, feeling blessed that he got a good amount of sleep last night, and the door is answered by Ben, who presumably just got the news since he looks upset and gives Michael a hug. Michael goes to Luke’s room, where he’s sat at his desk trying to catch up on his homework.

“Mikey,” Luke beams, looking up at him.

Michael kisses the top of his head before sitting on his bed. “Hiya,” he says softly. “How was the test yesterday?”

“Kinda painful,” he admits. “My head hurts from it but they said that’s normal.”

“What was it again?”

“A spinal tap to see if the leukemia is in my nervous system.”

Michael makes a face. It still feels surreal that they’re dealing with this, to hear such things come from Luke who was well a month ago. “Sounds gross.”

Luke nods. “It was pretty gross.”

There’s some silence because Michael isn’t quite sure how to ask about everything else, like his chemotherapy schedule or how much school he’d be missing and he wonders if he’s even supposed to know.

“So,” Luke says after a while. “I was blessed with a huge package describing the various stages of hell I’ll be experiencing over the next couple years.”

“Yeah?” Michael asks.

“Side effects and all that. Uh, they started me on some steroids for right now to help me like, prepare for chemo? And, like, it’s pretty much got all the side effects you’d expect from chemo like vomiting and crap. But, uh, I’m going to lose my hair.” Luke is biting at his lip.

“You’ll still be gorgeous.”

Luke chuckles a little, his cheeks a shade pinker than they were before. “You’re only saying that to get in my pants.”

“Not true,” Michael laughs. “Anyway, go on.”

Luke smiles. “So I’m going to be in the hospital for about a month,” he says, his smile fading a little. “Sydney Children’s Hospital, which is kind of a way’s away but I’ll have my phone and my laptop and we can Skype and text all the time. And they have an in-hospital school and they’ve set something up with school so I can get all my assignments while I’m there and I’ll have a tutor and stuff.”

Michael doesn’t like the sound of this but he smiles anyway because Luke is still managing to, even though it’s shaky. “I’ll try and visit every day,” he says.

“It’s like, an hour to drive there and even more to bus.”

“Is that a challenge, Hemmings?”

Luke grins. “Maybe,” he says. “Anyway, uh, I’m being admitted on Monday and dad got some clippers so I can get rid of all my hair before it falls out.”

“Do you want me to help?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course not,” Michael says, reaching for him and kissing his head. “Tonight or tomorrow?”

Luke cuddles into him. “Tomorrow. Calum’s coming over after his soccer game.”

Michael plays with Luke’s hair, wondering how he’ll look without it. He knows he’ll love Luke, hairless or not, but he’s always known him with hair that falls over his forehead when he doesn’t style it. He’s used to being able to play with his hair when he’s upset, teasing him about what colours would look good and how a warm colour would offset his otherwise cool complexion. He kisses his head again, tugging gently at his hair.

He stays for dinner and leaves when Luke falls asleep near the end of _Kung Fu Panda 2_ , which was his request, and Liz assures him that it’s just the leukemia making him tired. He goes home and has a long talk with his mum about everything, which helps him sort out his thoughts about everything that’s going on, especially things with Luke. By the end of the night, he’s decided to not break up with him and that he doesn’t need to spend money on more bleach and toner (and he really shouldn’t, his hair is fried).

When he goes over the next day, Michael and Luke spend the last few minutes of Luke having hair curled up in bed together sharing kisses while Luke tells him how things with Calum went. He was, of course, shocked, but Luke tried to paint the most optimistic picture he could without sugar-coating it too much. He promised to visit him as often as he could as well, and since he was working on getting his licence he promised to try and drive Michael if he could.

Michael tries not to think about how this is Luke’s last day at home before he’s going to be in the hospital for an entire month while they kiss, tries not to think that this could be the last time he kisses him for a while. He doesn’t think about how Luke is going to be so sick and he tries not to wonder why Luke is going to be made even sicker when right now he’s just dizzy and tired before he remembers what he found during a quick Google search of what Luke has. _Acute_ means that, without treatment, the leukemia would kill Luke in a month or so.

After a while, Michael pulls away from Luke, kissing his forehead. “We should get this show on the road before you chicken out,” he says.

Luke nods, letting himself be helped up slowly to avoid any dizziness. “Okay,” he pouts.

Michael gets one of the stools from the kitchen and sets it up in the bathroom. Luke promises that he washed his hair earlier in the morning and he sits on the stool while Michael drapes a towel around his shoulders and kisses his head again. He plugs in the clippers and sets them to the closest shave.

“Ready?” He asks, trying to make this as fun as possible because Luke looks scared.

Luke nods, covering his face with his hands so he can’t see his reflection in the mirror.

Michael squeezes his shoulder. “I love you.”

He turns the clippers on and gets to work, being careful around Luke’s ears and neck and promising him he was still beautiful. When he’s done clipping his hair as close as he can get with the clippers, he sweeps up Luke’s hair before he shaves it with Andy’s electric razor and when he’s done, he kisses the top of his head.

“Absolutely stunning,” Michael says softly, squeezing Luke’s shoulder.

Luke opens his eyes carefully, looking at himself in the mirror and sighing. “I look sick.”

“Well, you are,” he says softly, sweeping up the last few bits of hair on the ground before tossing Luke’s towel into the laundry hamper. “But you rock a bald head, honestly.”

“If you say so,” Luke says, morose.

“So do you want to rinse off and then do me?”

“Mikey, I’m not well enough for sex.”

Michael laughs softly. “I didn’t mean sex and I wouldn’t suggest having sex for the first time while you’re sick.”

Luke frowns. “What do you mean _do you_ then?” He pouts at Michael before he realizes. “Wait, you want me to shave your head?”

Michael nods. “Yeah, why not? My hair’s ruined from all the bleaching and dyeing and I don’t have the guts to let it grow out again.”

Luke watches him in the mirror for a minute before he stands up and wraps his arms around Michael, pulling him close. “No way,” he whispers. “No fucking way, you can keep your hair, love, keep your hair.”

“Nah,” Michael whispers, rubbing Luke’s back. “Stop talking me out of it or I’ll get too chicken.”

Luke pulls away and kisses him. “I love you, I love you,” he mumbles.

Michael grins, glad that Luke is happier. “I love you too. Now, c’mon, we’ve got to do this. Do you want to rinse off first?”

“I can do that later.”

He sits on the stool and Luke repeats everything Michael did, shaving his faded white and black hair until his head matched Luke’s. When all the hairs on the tile are cleaned up, they rinse off each other’s heads in the sink even though Michael could still feel some of the smaller hairs down the back of his shirt, and they cuddle up together again. It’s weird, because Michael feels cold even though it’s still summer and because Luke’s head is smooth and there’s no hair to play with.

Michael leaves that night, his chest aching because he isn’t sure if he’ll be able to get to the hospital to see Luke tomorrow. He gives Luke an old beanie of his and kisses him goodbye, telling him that if he can’t make it to the hospital tomorrow, they’ll definitely Skype. He gives Luke a hug before he leaves, hating that he’ll be further away than across the street.

 

Luke hates hospitals with everything he has. They smell weird and there’s always that little bit of terror reminding him that he could get whatever the person across from him has that’s making them cough like that. And, of course, the hospital is giving him another physical exam before he starts chemo and the doctor is busy with a consultation or something, he didn’t quite hear right, and he’s stuck in the waiting room. It would be a little bit better if his mum hadn’t gone to get something to eat and if he wasn’t so terrified of needles.

The upside is that he’s in a children’s hospital so the walls aren’t a sterile and bland colour and there’s cute little pieces of crayon art all over the walls, but another downside is that it’s a children’s hospital and while that includes adolescents, they don’t really cater to them. Whatever, Luke can stand a little while of staring at crayon drawings while he waits for Michael to finish the math test he’s writing and text him back. He sent a text to Calum as well but it was going unanswered and he’s pretty sure he’s got PE now.

Luke tugs the beanie Michael gave him down further on his head, playing with one of the zippers on his backpack. He’s cold now that he’s bald and he’s kind of really anxious about starting chemotherapy, even though his prognosis was good. He hates needles and having cancer meant receiving a lot of them, getting a lot of blood drawn and getting fucking bone marrow biopsies and lumbar punctures. It was needle-phobic hell.

A boy with dirty blond, wavy hair limps over and sits a few chairs down from Luke, on his side that isn’t purposely obstructed by his backpack, holding a bottle of water. He sets it between his knees and takes his phone out, sighing and looking over at Luke, giving him a dimpled smile and Luke immediately wishes he’d put his backpack on the other side of himself so he wouldn’t have to speak with a stranger on his first day of chemo.

“You okay?” The boy asks.

Luke nods. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“Sorry, it’s just that you look kind of lonely,” he says. He looks a year older, maybe.

“It’s fine,” Luke smiles, and he decides to do the polite, or maybe somewhat insensitive thing. “Are you okay? You’re limping.”

“Yeah, I’ve just got some osteosarcoma in my leg,” he taps his left leg. “And today is day one of treatment.”

Luke nods. “Me too. I’ve got leukemia.”

The boy frowns. “Ooh, that’s shitty. I’m Ashton, by the way.”

“Luke.”

Ashton smiles. “Lovely to meet you.”

Luke is about to reply when his phone buzzes in his pocket and he scrambles to get it out. It’s Michael and he can’t help smiling a little. He sent him a discreet picture of himself, pouting, his bald head on plain view and his heart is warmed

“Aw, no, you’re taken,” Ashton chuckles.

Luke looks over at him, laughing a little. “Sorry?”

“I’m just kidding,” he says, his dimples on display. “But that was definitely your girlfriend. Or boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend,” he confirms, chuckling.

“Ah, that’s cute. How long have you two been together?”

“About six months,” he smiles.

“That’s sweet. How old are you two?”

“Fifteen. What about you?”

“Sixteen.”

Luke nods, watching his mum appear with his doctor, his mum holding a granola bar. “I’ve got to go,” he says, grabbing his backpack and standing up, dizziness hitting him hard. His backpack is heavy and his mum frowns and walks towards him faster. “I’ll see you later.”

Ashton gives him another bright, dimpled smile. “Yeah, of course. Good luck!”

“You too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and look! it's /finally/ ashton! let me know what you think of this with comments, kudos or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	12. 294 938 756

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here is where i feel the need to start apologizing about medical inaccuracy because lbr, i'm just a kid with google and a lot of free time on my hands and the one time i found a legit medical site i needed to pay to enter so a lot of my information is from wikipedia and one really helpful pdf article from like, nhs? or the american cancer society or something
> 
> also!! i have no clue how australian health care works and any research I did was confusing so if you find errors in anything I apologize I'm sorry
> 
> anyway!!! have a good read!

Michael skips last block, tells his teacher he has a headache and takes the hour and half-long bus trip to the hospital where Luke is, getting stuck at one of the stops halfway there with a smoker. He finds Luke’s room and knocks gently on his door before stepping inside. Luke’s room is a mix between regular-hospital sterile and children’s-hospital fun and colourful with a little couch near the windows and a chair pulled up beside his bed, which Liz was sitting in.

Luke is sitting up in bed, the bunny Michael got him tucked under his arm as he read the books his English teacher had assigned. There are a couple other stuffed animals in the bed beside him, a teddy bear he’s had since he was a baby and a Winnie the Pooh he got when he was three, as Luke told him. He looks tired and there’s a needle in his arm and he looks up when Michael walks in, glancing at the clock on the wall.

“Mikey,” he says softly. “You weren’t supposed to be here for another hour.”

Michael shrugs. “Mum let me get out early. We were just doing seatwork and I picked it up before I left.”

Luke looks skeptical (as he should), but nods and reaches for him.

He sits on the bed next to him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and pulling him close. “Missed you,” he whispers, kissing his head.

“I missed you too. I’m so tired,” he huffs softly, cuddling close to Michael.

“Aw, love,” Michael rubs his shoulder gently. “I’ll read you to sleep.”

He nods and hands the book over to him, adjusting the bed so he could lie down properly. Michael lets him curl up with his head in his lap, patting his head gently as he reads softly to him. It’s all a little anticlimactic, since Luke is sick and spends so much of his day sleeping, but Michael likes the fact he’s with him if the alternative is sitting in a stuffy classroom and waiting for time to pass. Once he’s sure Luke is asleep, he goes back in the book and reads it from the beginning, giving Liz a small smile even though neither one of them wants to speak for fear of waking Luke.

Luke’s nap is short-lived, ending when a nurse comes in to remove the needle from his arm and ask him about how he feels. Michael is shooed off the bed while she checks him over and gives him some ice chips to suck on. The nurse encourages him to rest more since it’s his first day of an intense chemo regimen and Michael helps him with the homework he missed because of his spinal tap on Friday.

Liz leaves to call Andy and get them dinner (which Michael puts money towards it to pay for his share) and Luke cuddles up close to Michael, sighing softly.

Michael kisses his head. “What’s wrong, love?”

“I’m just kind of scared for next week,” Luke admits quietly.

“Why’s that?”

“Just – mum only got this week off work and my nurses and everyone agree that I’m old enough that I can be on my own in the hospital and everyone’s going to visit lots. But I dunno, I’m, like, worried that something will go wrong and they won’t be able to get here in time and… yeah.”

Michael frowns a little. “You’ll be fine, Lukey.”

“I mean, I know, but I’m just worried.”

Michael kisses his head again and takes his hand, squeezing it gently. He doesn’t know how to comfort Luke because his illness is so much bigger than either of them.

Luke puts his head on Michael’s chest. “I’m worried that I’m going to die and I’ll die alone.”

Michael’s chest clenches up and he worries he’s going to cry, which is shit because he hasn’t cried about Luke’s being sick and he doesn’t want to in front of him. It isn’t his time to be comforted. He squeezes Luke’s hand again, feeling his plastic hospital wristband against his wrist. “Babe,” he murmurs. “You’re not going to die.”

“I might,” Luke whispers. “Twenty percent chance.”

“Eighty percent chance you’ll be just fine, though,” Michael counters, kissing him gently. “Try and be positive, okay?”

Luke nods after a minute. “I’m trying.”

“I love you, okay?” Michael whispers. “I love you so, so much.”

“I love you too,” Luke hums, kissing his cheek.

It takes another few minutes of silence before Liz returns, struggling to hold all their dinners, and Michael jumps up to help her, sitting in one of the chairs beside Luke’s bed to eat. After dinner, he has to go home, has to go to bed because he has to sit through tedious classes tomorrow while Luke receives another round of chemo. He goes to bed and lets himself fall apart and be so worried he can’t do anything except cry.

 

The highlight of Luke’s day yesterday was Michael coming to visit him and making him feel marginally better. He’s glad, though, that Michael left when he did because shortly afterwards the side effects of his chemo kicked in and he spent the majority of his evening hunched over his toilet. And today, when he’s been put on a round of anti-emetics and anti-anxiety as well as his chemo, he’s looking forward to it even more. He hasn’t been as tired today and he misses seeing Michael all day long all the time.

His tutor, Amelia, comes in after lunch and helps him with his maths assignment when his phone buzzes. He ignores it since this is technically his school time and even though he texts there, it’s different here. He gets through his work and goes for a walk around the hospital with his mum, where he sees too many little kids with pale faces and bald heads. (He decides there’s no place more depressing and more stuffed with positivity than the oncology ward in a children’s hospital).

Luke checks his phone when he gets back, thinking that there’s only an hour or so until Michael comes. He sees the text is from Michael and grins, quickly opening it.

 _I can’t make it today ): I got a boatload of homework_ _and Calum and me are doing an English project together. I’m sorry, Lukey. We should Skype tonight._

Disappointment sinks into his chest and he sighs. _That’s fine. Skype sounds good. Good luck on your English project._

Luke doesn’t get much more chance to text him, which is lonely and makes his nap a lot less fun because Michael isn’t there reading him to sleep. His mum offers to, which is lovely of her, but it isn’t Michael and he feels like a petulant child who wants a thing and won’t settle down until he has it and it makes him feel bad when a nurse comes to check on him. He doesn’t mean to be grumpy, but he is. He realizes it’s completely unrealistic to expect that Michael can visit him every day and he doesn’t expect him to shell out all his personal money just to see Luke. There are still things Michael has to buy for himself and Luke doesn’t expect him to forget all of it while he’s in the hospital.

But that doesn’t stop him from missing Michael a lot. They’ve known each other for five years and in those five years, they’ve maybe spent three months apart in total, three months of days they haven’t seen each other at all. They see each other even more often now that they’re dating and even though Jack teases that they’ll get sick of each other, he doubts it.

After dinner, where Luke managed to choke down a little more than last night but not very much, Michael texts him and tells him he’s free to Skype anytime. So Luke powers up his laptop and opens Skype, which takes too long, but soon his laptop is displaying Michael’s pixelated face.

It makes him smile immediately. “Hey.”

Michael smiles back. He looks tired. “Hi.”

“How was school?” Luke asks, shifting a little in the chair he’s sitting in. It isn’t really the comfiest but it’s better than sitting in bed all day.

“It was good,” Michael says. “Word’s starting to get out about you.”

Luke frowns a little. He doesn’t really want people to like, know that he’s sick like this because he doesn’t want sympathy and pity from people he’s never really spoken to before. “Oh. Did you tell them?”

“No, of course not.”

“Did Calum?”

“No, I don’t think so. I dunno, they might’ve found out from Jack.”

Luke sighs softly, nodding. “Right, yeah.”

Michael yawns, lying down in bed and pulling a blanket up around his shoulders. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” He reaches over and grabs his bunny from the bed, which he’s affectionately started calling Mikey.

“Wish you weren’t sick. I’m lonely in a lot of ways.”

Luke isn’t sure if he’s just annoyed that people at school are soon going to be posting on his Facebook wall about how they hope he fights hard that makes irritation wriggle inside him. He chuckles a little, unsure of how to reply without snapping. He already feels guilty enough about being sick, he really doesn’t need this.

“I miss making out with you and stuff.”

“Me too,” Luke says shortly, looking down at his hands and fiddling with his hospital bracelet. _Luke Robert Hemmings_ , it reads and it lists his birthday and a lot of other things. He doesn’t know how to reply without making this into a fight and he hasn’t fought with Michael yet and he really, really doesn’t want to while he’s got fucking cancer and he’s stuck in the hospital.

Michael yawns again and Luke is jealous that he’s at home, that he gets to go back to school. He’ll never really admit it, but he really just wants to be in school because he’s worried he’ll fall behind and he’s worried he’ll get teased when he returns. He doesn’t want to be sick and he desperately wants to be well and at home and not on the verge of blowing up at his boyfriend.

“I wish you were closer,” Michael sighs. “I’d be able to like, walk over and see you instead of the two hour bus ride.”

“Can you stop?” Luke says, looking anywhere but his camera and the crappy, slightly lagged image of Michael on his screen.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just – ugh. You’re making me feel guilty for being sick and like, I’m sorry that my blood and my bone marrow decided to completely fuck up and land me in a hospital for a month. I’m sorry I’m sick, okay? But if it were up to me I wouldn’t be and I’m just kind of sick of feeling guilty for something I can’t control.”

Michael frowns. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t know what else to say.”

“I don’t know, ask me how my chemo went today? It was _great_ , thanks for asking. I sure do love being poked with needles and given like, seven different drugs so I don’t die and so I don’t throw up everything I’ve eaten in the past month. You know what’s my favourite? Being told they’re going to inject chemo drugs into my back so that the cancer doesn’t spread there! It’ll be fucking spinal taps every day of my life, it’s going to be a party.”

Michael looks affronted and a little hurt. “Luke, I’m sorry,” he says defensively. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Look, it’s whatever,” Luke sighs. “Sorry, I… I should go.”

Michael doesn’t even reply, doesn’t look at him.

“Night.”

Luke ends the call and checks his Facebook, seeing the beginning of an onslaught of “we’re thinking of you” posts. He clicks the like button before he shuts down his laptop, glad that his mum had left to call his dad and check on how the house was and things. He does a few more pages of homework on the novel they’re reading, which he would be discussing if he weren’t stuck in the hospital.

Once he’s done his homework, he goes to bed, getting a quick check by his doctor about how he feels before his lights are turned out. He gets a kiss on the forehead from his mum before she curls up on the little couch and he’s out after a while, spending a few minutes regretting blowing up at Michael and wishing he could lie in bed and text him without his mum telling him he should really go to bed. He thinks he’ll send him an apology tomorrow, when he’s less upset and prone to blowing up at the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oopsies is it getting a little angsty? :~) please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com) and please also share this with your friends!!! thank youu


	13. 294 930 744m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoo (not so) surprise update because i told everyone about it!!! but random not monday/thursday update just for fun!!! (there will be a few of these by the way just because there are sO many chapters and i really want to post it all)

In the morning, Luke puts off texting Michael, thinking that it can wait until once he’s out of school. He’d rather not have a conversation about their very first fight while Michael is trying to do his work, honestly, and he thinks that Michael feels the same way. And then once school’s gotten out, Ashton visits from down the hall, wearing a blue bandanna over his thinning hair and they talk for a while and it’s really nice.

Ashton leaves and Luke opens his conversation with Michael, trying to draft a text to him but it never sounds right and he ends up rewriting it. He’s on his third rewrite when there’s a knock on the door and a quick glance at the time tells him it’s close to five so it could potentially be Michael here to apologize about it. Immediately, he worries that the conversation will take place in front of his mum and he’ll have to tell her about what happened, which will make her worry and ask him if he’s sure he can handle a relationship and cancer.

“Come in,” he says, setting his phone down on the arm of the chair beside him. He likes the couch better than the bed, honestly. From the couch, he can sort of see the ocean and Luke’s favourite place in the world is the beach.

The door opens and Luke looks over, seeing that it’s Calum, still in his uniform and holding a card, probably from the gift shop a few floors down.

“Calum,” Luke says, a little shocked. He didn’t think he’d show up without being accompanied by Michael.

His mum smiles from where she’s sitting. “I’m going to get some coffee,” she says, standing.

Luke nods, quickly saying goodbye and reaching for Calum.

He sits next to him and wraps his arms around him. “Hey,” he says softly. “I didn’t really know what to get you since they said I shouldn’t get you flowers and I’d feel a little lame getting you fake ones. So I bought you a card.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything. Honestly, it cost you enough to get down here.”

Calum shrugs, handing him the card. “I wanted to,” he says. “You should probably open it later, since I just licked it shut and it’s probably still wet or something.”

Luke chuckles, tossing it over so it landed on his bed before he cuddles into him again. Calum, as he’d discovered, gave some of the best cuddles he’s ever experienced, challenged only by Michael.

“Michael told me you two fought last night,” he says softly.

Luke sighs softly, cuddling closer to him. Calum’s arms are stronger than Michael’s and he’s got tough abs, all from soccer, but he’s warm and soft.

“And, look, I’m really not one to be giving relationship advice,” Calum says. “And I know it isn’t really my place to say this, but are you sure you two can do this?”

That’s like, the one thing Luke didn’t want to think about. He sighs again, resting his head on Calum’s shoulder and he can feel Calum’s hair on his bald head.

“Luke, I really don’t mean to be insensitive or anything but you’re so young and it’s going to be really hard for both of you. Maybe it would be easier if you two were just friends for a little while.”

“But I’m in love with him,” Luke mumbles.

“I know, but a relationship is stressful enough and cancer is extremely stressful.”

“Are you telling me I should break up with him?”

“No, I’m just saying that you should consider it,” Calum says softly. “I love you two together, honestly. I’ve been listening to him go on about you for three-ish years? And seeing him really happy with you makes me happy but… you’re both fifteen-”

“I’m almost sixteen,” Luke mumbles.

“Yeah, in like, six months. Anyway, you’re both – I mean, all of us – are all really young and he’s going to try and deal with this as much as he can but he’s kind of an idiot.”

Luke nods, sighing softly. “I’ll think about it.”

Calum nods and squeezes his shoulder gently as the door opens. Luke suspects, in the split second before the person appears, that it’s his mum or a nurse, but it’s Ashton, using a crutch to help him get around.

“Oh, sorry if I’m interrupting,” he says. “I just can’t stand being alone.”

Luke nods. “No, it’s fine.”

Ashton smiles. He explained earlier that he’s got two little siblings, which tied up his mum, so there wasn’t a lot of time she could visit and stay with him. “Is this the boyfriend you told me about?”

Luke and Calum laugh. “No, this is my friend Calum.”

Ashton sits on the edge of Luke’s bed facing them and holding onto his crutch. “Ah, nice to meet you, then,” he says, smiling at him. “I’m Ashton.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Calum smiles.

Over the next hour, the three of them sit around and chat and all Luke can think about is how Michael would love Ashton. They talk and joke and Ashton fits into Luke and Calum’s dynamic with surprising ease and Luke really likes it. He likes having someone who has the same fears as him, who knows what he’s going through to some extent and doesn’t just kiss him when he talks about death (which, don’t get him wrong, is lovely, but he wants someone to validate his fears instead of just reassure him.)

Once Luke is alone again with just his mum, he manages his way through dinner, which tastes weird, but his nurse assures him that’s just the chemo. Afterwards, he goes for a walk to get away from his mum and he texts Michael.

 _I’m sorry about last night. Can you Skype?_ The wifi where he’s sitting is weak so he goes down another hallway until the connection improves.

 _okay_ , Michael sends as a reply and Luke takes it. He logs into Skype on his phone, because he wants to apologize face-to-face and this is the closest he can get. He calls Michael, holds his phone so he can see his face in the little thumbnail while he waits for Michael to pick up.

Michael is in bed, holding his phone above him with one hand and he’s shirtless. Actually, for all Luke knows he could be naked, since all he can see is Michael’s chest, really, but he knows he’s wearing a beanie. He looks tired and Luke knows how he feels.

“Hey,” Luke says softly.

“Hi,” Michael murmurs.

This is immensely awkward because Luke doesn’t know where or how to start this conversation.

“I’m really sorry about last night,” Luke says. “I was just, like, angry at the world, I guess, and I took it out on you. It wasn’t fair of me and I’m really sorry.”

Michael shrugs, smiling a little. “It’s okay. I’m sorry, too. I should’ve asked how things were going there.”

Luke smiles. “It’s okay. How was school today?”

“Exhausting. I miss summer break.”

He laughs softly. “Me too.”

“How was chemo?”

“I dunno, it sorta sucked. And I meant to text you earlier but I kept getting distracted and nervous, and yeah.”

“It’s fine, babe.”

Luke smiles at the endearment, sinking lower into the chair he’s sitting in. There’s some kid wailing down the hall.

“Where are you?” Michael asks, reaching across his chest with his free hand to scratch his shoulder and he leaves his hand resting there.

“I don’t know,” Luke chuckles. “I went for a walk because I don’t want to get a lecture from mum about how I shouldn’t be fighting while I’m sick or whatever.”

He chuckles. “It’s just there’s someone crying.”

“Yeah. It happens pretty often, actually, since like, a lot of the patients here are under ten.”

“That makes sense,” Michael says, yawning again. “Okay, I seriously have to shower before I just pass out.”

“You haven’t showered yet?” Luke asks.

He shakes his head. “I got comfy when I said I would and I ended up just not showering.”

Luke chuckles softly. “You’re so lame. Go shower. You smell.”

“Hey,” Michael whines, pouting at him. “Meanie.”

“I’m kidding, babe.”

Michael beams. “I know. I’m going to try and visit you tomorrow. I’ve got history last, so I’ll probably be able to leave early.”

Luke frowns. “You shouldn’t skip, Mikey.”

He shrugs playfully back, “what I _should_ do is shower and get to bed.”

“Okay,” Luke sighs. “Goodnight, I love you.”

“I love you too. Sweet dreams.”

They disconnect and Luke makes his way back to his room, going to bed shortly after.

Before he goes to bed, he can’t help but mull over what Calum told him earlier and everything he suggested. It was just one fight and it was their first fight but there was just something in it that made him think, an undertone that was worrying him, which he really did enough of anyways.

By the time Michael arrives the next afternoon, while Luke is drafting a history essay and wondering why his anti-emetics and anti-nausea meds aren’t working, he’s still on the fence about breaking up with him. They cuddle for a while, Luke forgetting the essay for now and focussing on Michael’s fingers on his head and not throwing up. His mum suggests Michael help Luke with his history essay before she goes to get water and after she leaves Michael confesses to skipping history.

It’s another thing that worries him and he thinks more about it once Michael has gone and he’s supposed to at least eat the Jell-O on his plate. He does, all while thinking about Michael and how this isn’t good. Skipping school is one thing, but skipping school just to visit him is another and he knows that Michael has always struggled in history and missing it is doing more harm than good for him. He wants to talk him out of it in a way that won’t sound like he’s asking him to never visit, because he’s kind of living off encounters with people that aren’t his mum or the hospital staff.

Luke doesn’t decide until the next morning when he’s showering before chemo and even then he spends another few hours debating it. Michael promised to visit again today since it’s a Friday and he’s allowed to stay later than normal and Luke feels so guilty about doing it on the day that Michael can spend more time with him. He tries planning out a speech, since he really has no clue how to break up with someone. He didn’t end his last relationship and he knows that the key is honesty and he knows he should tell Michael that it isn’t his fault, but the thought is making him tongue-tied.

He visits Ashton and seeks advice from him on how to break up with someone. Ashton is surprisingly good at switching from playful and teasing to serious in an instant and Luke feels like he’s asking Ben or Jack for advice with school or something. He gets some good advice and a big hug before he goes back to his room and manages his way through his maths work, checking the time every now and then while he waits for Michael to show up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed it!!! please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	14. 290 926 723m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy canadian thanksgiving friends! i hope you enjoy!!!

They spend the afternoon together, getting a chance to talk and hang out without the knowledge that Michael just spent nearly two hours on transit to get here that he has to leave soon to take the same trip in reverse. They lie on Luke’s bed for a while, cuddled together so they both fit on it and Luke doesn’t know how to work a break up speech into it. He doesn’t want to disturb the peaceful space they’ve created and he sort of doesn’t even want to break up.

It’s for the better, he reminds himself as he looks down at Michael, his head on his chest. They’ll both be happier and less stressed this way and it’s the best option. “Mikey,” Luke murmurs. He’s gotten sleepy from all this cuddling and he doesn’t want it to end so soon.

“Hmm?” Michael looks up at him, sleepy and cute. Luke’s heart stutters with an unspoken _I love you._

“Can we talk about something?”

Michael nods and Luke thinks that this should be more serious than the two of them entwined like this but he doesn’t have the heart to change it.

He doesn’t know where to start and he’s always thought that dancing around a thesis with an introduction was kind of a silly idea so he just starts off blunt. “I think we should break up.”

Michael’s sleepy and cute eyes change in an instant to wide and hurt. “What? Why?”

“I think it would be less stressful,” he says softly. “Like, I love you so, so much but like, being sick and being with you might be too much.”

“But you said I could leave you if I wanted and I don’t want that, Luke.”

“I know,” Luke soothes. “I don’t want it either, really, but I just don’t want to have a half-assed relationship because I’m sick. You deserve a boyfriend who isn’t sick.”

“I don’t care who I deserve; I want you.”

Luke sighs softly. “Mikey,” he whispers.

Michael shakes his head, his eyes glassy with tears. “Please, Luke.”

“Michael, please. I don’t want to get so caught up being ill I’m a shit boyfriend and I don’t want to get caught up being a good boyfriend I forget to take care of myself. I love you so much but my health has to come before our relationship. I’m sorry.”

He nods, taking a deep breath and wiping away a tear before it could fall. “Okay,” he mumbles.

Luke takes his hands. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Michael gives him a shaky smile. “We can still be friends, right?”

“I – yeah, of course we can.”

Michael, as Luke predicted, doesn’t stay very much longer and tells Luke that he’s working on that project with Calum tomorrow and he has to be at Calum’s by one. Luke knows it’s probably a lie but he doesn’t push it. If Michael wants to be alone, he can be alone and Luke sort of wants to be alone as well.

That night, when he curls up to sleep, he’s hit with a hard bout of homesickness. The hospital is as comfortable as it could be, the staff are sweet and he’s got Ashton as a friend to hang out with whenever Michael and Calum aren’t around, but it isn’t home. Even though most of the people at school annoy him, he sort of misses it. He’d take that annoyance over the annoyance of having a needle stuck in his arm and nausea that won’t go away no matter how many meds they give him. He’d rather be at home, arguing with his brothers about whose turn it is to set the table instead of here, fighting a disease that could kill him in an instant. Or over the course of several decades. Or it could go away and – he cuts off that train of thought viciously, because he _is_ going to get better and he _will_ stay that way, faulty cell growth be damned.

Luke just wants to go home. He wants to go home and he wants to not be sick so he wasn’t lying here in his bed, listening to some commotion just outside his room and letting it sink in that he’s single now. He’s never really been single for very long, since his relationship with Olivia lasted so long and Michael became his boyfriend not long after. He’s never really been single since he started dating and he doesn’t know how to do it, doesn’t know what it’s like after being in a relationship of some sort for so long.

He cries as silently as he can, clutching tight onto his bunny, and all he can think about is Michael’s face when he brought it up and how he looked like someone had just been killed in front of him. The only thought he has is Michael lying in bed, alone with no one there with him, because even though he doesn’t want to tell his mum about the breakup yet, he knows she’s there and it’s comforting having another person around.

Luke wakes up in the morning and gets breakfast, which isn’t very easy to eat but he’s getting a day off chemo. He visits Ashton for a little while and it’s nice because his little siblings are visiting and they’re balls of sunshine just like he is so it cheers him up. He still doesn’t mention the breakup because it doesn’t feel real but at the same time he doesn’t text Michael very much and that makes it feel too real.

After lunch when Luke is working on some homework (he feels like he’ll just do homework around the clock for the rest of his life since he’s fallen behind), his mum disappears with a promise that she’ll be back in a few minutes. Luke nods and puts it down to the bathroom or something, yawning and stretching a little so his spine pops and he sighs in relief.

His mum comes back, sticking half in the room. “I have a surprise for you,” she singsongs.

Luke immediately worries it’s something really dumb, like a bunch of the kids from his school that his mum thinks he’s best friends with here to say hi. “What is it?” He asks, laying his pencil down.

She opens the door all the way, revealing Ben and Jack, both of them offering him smiles.

It isn’t quite the surprise he thought it was going to be, but it still makes him smile and put his homework onto the table next to him. “Hey,” he says.

Jack is the first one over to him, sitting next to him and wrapping his arms around him. “Hey,” he says softly. “How do you feel?”

Luke hasn’t gotten affection like this from his brothers in a long time and if he weren’t upset and sick, he’d push him away. Ben sits on the arm of the chair and squeezes his shoulder. “I’m okay. Tired, mostly.”

“You’re doing okay?” Ben asks. “Nothing’s changed?”

“Nah,” he says, leaning over so his head was resting against Ben’s side. “I’m doing okay. I’m young, so I’ve got a better chance.”

“That’s good.”

Silence falls over the room and Luke remembers that talking about death in front of the people he was raised by is sort of awkward.

“Where’s dad?” He asks, looking at his mum.

“He should be leaving soon,” she says. “I’m going to take Ben’s car back home and shower.”

He nods.

“I’ll be back tonight,” she says, kissing his head.

They say bye to her and Luke gets a text from his dad telling him he’s just leaving now and after he’s replied to it, his phone vibrates again, this time from Michael.

_You okay? Everyone’s leaving your house and I’m just worried._

He sighs softly and of course Jack peers over his shoulder.

“Ooh, is it from Michael?” He asks.

Luke bites at his lip. “Yeah,” he says softly, tapping back a reply that he was fine, his family was visiting him.

“Is everything okay?” Jack asks.

“Did you guys fight?” Ben asks.

Luke is hit with a realization that he’s the youngest and no matter how hold he gets, he’ll always be the baby brother. “We broke up,” he mumbles.

“What?” Jack frowns. “Why?”

Luke sighs and explains it, tacking, “Please don’t tell mum,” onto the end. They have a long conversation about it and he manages to hold back tears (sort of). Ben and Jack agree that it was the right thing to do but Jack suggests he remember that he might get a second chance once he’s out of the hospital or once his treatment is over but Luke reminds them his treatment will last until he’s seventeen or eighteen.

After a while, he gets tired from all the affection and Ben goes to get coffee, leaving him half-asleep on Jack.

“You have to come home soon, kiddo,” Jack says softly, his fingers brushing over his bald scalp. “The house is silent without you.”

Luke looks up at him and he looks so sincere that his heart aches. He hadn’t really considered how his brothers felt about all this. “Bet it’s not silent.”

Jack chuckles. “Well, Ben’s up at university and you’re here so it’s really just me and Pancake for a few hours until mum and dad come home.”

Luke scoots a little bit closer, wrapping his arms around him and cuddling close.

“I miss you being at home,” Jack admits, very quietly.

He shuts his eyes, his homesickness from last night washing over him again. He just wants to go home. He doesn’t care if he has a hospital bed and he isn’t allowed to go to school, he just wants to lie at home and see Pancake and his family on a regular basis. He never really realized how much he missed Jack until now, but he really, really misses him and his presence at home.

“So you better come home, okay kiddo?”

Luke looks up at him, perennially the baby, and gives him the best optimistic smile he can offer. “Promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	15. 288 926 675m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so i feel like i should warn for angst and underage drinking??? there's a bit of that and legal drinking age in nsw is 18 so it's underage and i should warn for it. also!!! i meant to warn about vomit mentions and i completely forgot the first time they showed up so there is mentioned vomiting and i'm only warning about that because i'm emetophobic myself. anywayyy enjoy!!

It’s Saturday and Michael has been up for too long after falling asleep as late as he did last night. He didn’t expect to leave the hospital so soon but he didn’t really want to stay after he got broken up with, to be quite honest. And he didn’t go home right away: he spent a good fifteen minutes crying in a 7-11 bathroom and bought a drink and a pack of gum before he left so the cashier didn’t think he’d been crying (even though his face showed it and she probably heard him).

He got home late enough that his mum was in bed and he took a long shower before he went to bed, staying up for a few more hours. He came to the conclusion that it was Luke’s decision and if Luke didn’t want to be with him, he would learn to live with it. He didn’t have to be Luke’s boyfriend to be happy, but he really wanted to be Luke’s boyfriend and he’d spent two years wanting it and now it was gone. The worst part was that he wanted to be angry at Luke about it, because every movie he’d ever seen depicted anger after a breakup, but he couldn’t even summon up the emotions for it because he completely understood why Luke had broken up with him, he just didn’t want it to be true.

Michael wakes up the next morning and explains it all to his mum before he breaks the news to Calum and he spends his day doing nothing in particular. He doesn’t feel like doing anything, is the thing, and he really wants to go and see Luke because he thought this weekend would be spent at the hospital so he did all his homework on the bus to see him yesterday. He could go up to the hospital anyway, but since he saw all Luke’s family leaving to visit him he decides he should stay and give them a day to be a proper family again.

He spends his Saturday doing nothing and trying not to feel so utterly single, and by around nine he’s given up on doing anything with his day. He goes to his room to watch a movie and he’s scrolling through a list of movies, trying to find something he hasn’t watched with Luke and something that won’t remind of Luke, which is proving to be really, really hard. He’s debating between watching _Scott Pilgrim_ or _The Avengers_ when his phone buzzes. Michael opens the text, from Calum, and reads it.

_I heard about you and Luke. I’m really sorry._

Michael sighs. _It’s fine, I knew we wouldn’t last._

_Do you want to come out with me tonight? Blow off some steam or something?_

_Meet me at mine whenever you can, then._

Michael showers and gets ready, which takes really no time at all since he has no hair that needs to be done, before he tells his mum he’s going to Calum’s. The walk to Calum’s isn’t really that long (but his house isn’t conveniently across the street like Luke’s is) and Calum comes out to meet him when he texts that he’s close. They walk together, Calum explaining that there’s this party and a boy on his soccer team invited him and his first thought was Michael.

It’s kind of nerve-racking for Michael learning that he’s on his way to his first party as the only gay kid in their grade he knows, whereas straight-as-a-board Calum has been to a few parties and he knows his way around them. Calum spews some advice about how he shouldn’t touch anyone who’s passed out and how if he drinks anything, he shouldn’t leave his drink alone and he shouldn’t do any drugs or buy any drugs that aren’t weed. It kind of hits Michael how many parts of Calum he’s missed because he’s always done these parties with his soccer team and Michael’s so often spent his Saturday nights with Luke.

“But is it all the kids from school?” Michael asks as they get closer.

“Sorta. There are kids from school but there are kids from a lot of other schools too,” Calum explains. “So be prepared to introduce yourself a lot.”

Michael nods. He can hear the music from the house and Calum assured him they were only a block away a few minutes ago. “No one’s going to be really awful, right?”

“Nah, not unless you’re awful to them. Don’t sweat it, okay? You’ll be fine. Just chill out like everyone else there and blow off some steam.”

Michael nods, grabbing onto his arm when they enter the party and there’s people stuffed into the house, the music just as loud as at a concert and he doesn’t want to get lost in the beating bass or the bodies. He follows him to the kitchen, the door hanging open to reveal boxes and boxes of coolers and beers and Calum grabs a can and hands it to him.

“These are good,” he says over the music. “They taste like punch but they’ll get you drunk.”

Michael nods again, opening it and taking a sip. It’s sweeter than anything alcoholic he’s ever drunk before but it’s got a bite at the end that he immediately identifies as alcohol and the can tells him it’s five percent vodka. He looks at Calum, unsure how to proceed.

Calum leads him into the living room, where there’s people dancing and people sitting on couches and a couple making out in the corner. Michael worries immediately that one of the girls here, clad in skin-tight clothes, will be interested in him and it’ll be insanely awkward and he’ll become the joke of the party, the “remember when” that everyone laughs about weeks later. He lets Calum introduce him to a few people and he finishes his drink, which makes him feel warm and relaxed.

After another drink, he’s even more relaxed and he finds himself on the couch with a boy, a boy with black hair and dark skin who grinned when Michael explained why he was bald. He learns the boy’s name is Jake and he’s told about the sweetest thing his ex-boyfriend ever did for him, which makes him smile a little because Jake is sort of flirting with him but he was worried it was just friendly and he was misconstruing it.

“You have pretty lips,” Michael giggles, unable to take his eyes off Jake’s lips and honestly he’s kind of drunk.

Jake laughs. “Thanks. Would your boyfriend mind you saying that?”

“He’s my ex now,” he says. “Broke up with me.”

“Really?”

Michael nods.

“Well, then, I wouldn’t mind if you kissed me.”

Michael leans over and kisses Jake and his lips don’t feel like Luke’s but Michael is drunk enough that he can sort of pretend, but it’s also kind of nice kissing someone new. Maybe he should’ve done this years ago and he never would’ve fallen for Luke and he would’ve had more experience for when they did kiss or maybe Luke wouldn’t have kissed him at all. He also thinks that his lips fit a little bit better with Jake’s since Jake’s lips are bigger like his are and Luke’s are thin and while the contrast is nice, this is also nice.

Jake presses closer to him, kissing him slowly and he tastes like lemonade. Michael wraps his arms around his waist, feeling taut muscle underneath his shirt and it isn’t like Luke is unfit but he isn’t really muscular like Jake is. He deepens the kiss and it’s amazing, the way they’re just melting together like this and how it’s happening and how this is going better than he ever thought it would.

“Get a room!” Someone shouts and Michael chuckles into the kiss.

“Guess we could,” Jake murmurs, pulling away just a little to speak.

Michael nods and they stand up, Jake leading him upstairs to a room with a big king-size bed and locking the door.

“How far are you willing to take it?” Jake asks, sliding his shirt off. He’s got abs and toned arms and he looks like a damn model.

“Uh, not very far,” Michael replies. Even though he’d love for his first time to be with someone as gorgeous as Jake, it wouldn’t feel right. He’s had so many firsts with Luke and he always expected sex to be another first with Luke.

Jake kisses him, his hands on his hips. “That’s okay. Let’s just make out.”

Michael is conscious of his pudgy hips as Jake pulls off his shirts, peppering kisses to his lips as he does before he gets it all the way off and presses their lips together sweetly. Michael follows him to the bed, lies down and lets himself be kissed. He does his best to speed it up and turn it back into what they had when they were downstairs, which is less gentle and more teeth and tongue. It works and Michael thinks of pulling away and proposing that they throw Jake’s last suggestion out the window and let this go further.

There’s a knock on the door and they separate quickly.

“Jake,” someone drawls. “Jake, I’m sick, I have to go home.”

“Just a sec!” Jake calls, sighing and looking at Michael. “I’m sorry. Let me get your number before I go?”

Michael nods, taking his phone from him as he pulls his shirt back on and tapping in his number. It takes him a couple tries because Jake has an iPhone and he’s used to typing on his slide phone and he’s drunk. He hands him his phone when he’s done, giving him a big dopey smile that Jake kisses quickly.

“Thanks for tonight, babe,” he says softly as the person knocks again. “You’re an ace kisser.”

Michael giggles. “You too,” he whispers. “Text me.”

“Definitely.”

Jake smiles before he goes to the door and leaves, letting Michael be alone in the dark room with only a streetlight casting light in. After a few seconds to think about how he still somehow felt guilty for making out with someone that isn’t Luke, he puts his shirt back on and goes downstairs, getting another drink because he left his half-drunk one downstairs before he started kissing Jake and he’ll heed Calum’s advice. He gets another one and spends the next little while dancing until he can’t really breathe anymore and he goes out to the front yard, sitting on the curb with people starting to leave the party in little groups.

The fresh air helps quite a bit and he feels better within a few minutes, his phone resting in his hand while he waits for a text he’s sure won’t come tonight but he’s hopeful for anyway. He finally opens his conversation with Luke, the last message sent and he hadn’t gotten a reply. Michael hesitates before he hits the button to compose another message, looking down at the stark white blank screen with the little blinking cursor, encouraging him to write something.

_i msis you_

Luke replies almost immediately. _Are you okay?_

Affection be damned, Michael thinks as his heart stutters. Luke still fucking cares about him and he hates it. _drunk,_ he shoots back. He hopes Luke feels okay tonight so he isn’t annoying him.

The next reply takes a couple minutes. _You should drink some water. Are you at home? If you are I could get Jack to make sure you’re okay._

 _nahh tha nks thoufh im not home_.

_You should go home and drink some water. Please?_

The _please_ gets him. It legitimately pulls at something in his heart and he doesn’t want to not be Luke’s boyfriend. He feels like he might cry again, but he forces it away quickly. Not here, not now. _ok i habe to finb claum._

_Calum?_

Michael doesn’t get a reply for a minute so he ventures back inside to find Calum and go home, because Luke asked him to and his phone clock says it’s late and his mum is probably worried about him. He finds Calum letting someone use his phone and takes his arm, making him look up at him.

“You okay?” Calum asks. The music volume has been reduced greatly since he first arrived.

“Yeah,” Michael says. “I should get home.”

Calum nods. “Okay, I’ll walk with you. Just give me a minute.”

Michael nods, leaning against the counter and rubbing over his face. Calum gets his phone back after a minute and he leads Michael out, helping keep him steady and teasing him about being a lightweight as they stumble home together. He helps Michael get to his room without causing too much noise and goes back to his house, ending the night of Michael’s very first party.

He expects sleep to come quickly but it doesn’t and he can’t figure out why. He grabs his phone again, opening another message to Luke.

_Miss you lots nd i lvoe you lots an d yeah_

Five minutes pass without a reply and he assumes Luke has fallen asleep, which is good since it’s nearly two in the morning. Michael finds the cord for his phone and plugs it in, letting it sit on his bedside table and hoping the vibrate noise will be enough to rouse him if Luke texts back tonight. He falls asleep waiting even though he’s sure Luke is asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	16. 279 918 892m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> over 1000 hits and 100 comments i am tearing up thank you all so so so much you have no idea how much all of this means to me after thinking this fic would flop thank you thank you enjoy this chapter

Michael wakes up to a killer headache, a foul taste in his mouth, a churning stomach, and no reply from Luke. His clock reads half ten, which is too early, but the headache and the taste in his mouth are keeping him awake and he feels gross, like there’s something crawling under his skin. He takes a shower (and checks his phone) before he forces himself to eat at least a piece of toast while his mum comments that he looks tired and asks how Calum’s was last night. It takes him a minute to remember that he didn’t tell his mum he was going to a party and she assumes he spent the evening with Calum and he splutters out a lie, telling her it was fun, but yeah, he’s tired and he’s going to go visit Luke.

The constant stopping and starting of the train does nothing for his nausea and he’s nearly sick when he has to run to catch his bus. When he gets to the hospital, he has to spend a few minutes in the waiting room taking deep breaths and sipping some water before he can stand up and go to Luke’s room. He checks his face in his phone, confirming that he does, in fact, look as poorly as he feels and he knocks on the door, hoping Luke doesn’t notice and doesn’t ask.

Michael enters to Luke’s family sitting in a little circle around a table, playing poker with pieces of popcorn, Luke squashed between his brothers and completely dwarfed by them.

Luke notices him and smiles. “Hey,” he says. “Wanna play?”

“Nah, I’ll watch,” Michael says, smiling as he pulls up a chair in between Jack and Liz.

He watches the game play out and joins in on some of the banter. He can see both Jack’s and Liz’s hands and it’s really hard to keep from giggling when they bluff so he distracts himself by glancing over at Luke, who looks like he needs the rules drawn out for him. He’s an awful poker player and Liz ends up winning, though she splits her winnings.

Luke eyes him while he munches on popcorn, reaching over to offer him a piece but he shakes his head, which makes Luke pout a little.

“Want to go for a walk?” He asks when he’s done.

“Yeah, sure,” Michael says, standing and helping move furniture so Luke can get up.

He offers Luke his hand to get up and Luke keeps their hands intertwined as they go to the door, which Michael doesn’t entirely mind but it does warrant Luke getting a confused look that he ignores. Once they’re in the hallway, Luke pulls his hand away, stuffing both of his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants.

“Sorry,” he says when they’re halfway down the hall. “I haven’t told mum and dad we broke up.”

Michael nods. “Understandable.”

Luke is leading him through the halls, smiling and waving at a few nurses and doctors while Michael follows, unsure what to say. “Are you okay? You almost look worse than me and, well, I have cancer.”

Michael chuckles. “I’m just hungover.”

“Right,” Luke says softly, presumably remembering their conversation last night. “I’m sorry I never replied to your last text. I assumed it was just, like, too late.”

Michael nods. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

“So the party was good last night? You made it home safe and you had fun and stuff?”

“Yeah, it was fun,” he says. He wants to tell Luke about Jake and how he made out with someone else and it felt like cheating even though they aren’t together. He wants to tell him but he doesn’t know how.

“That’s good. What’s it like being drunk?”

Michael laughs softly, completely endeared by Luke. “Uh, I dunno. It’s like… You feel kind of warm and it’s like when you’ve stayed up really late and now everything is just hilarious to you.”

Luke nods. “And what about the hangover?”

“God,” Michael sighs. “My head hurts and I feel sick to my stomach and I have this feeling that I can’t drink enough water and my mouth tastes gross.”

Luke laughs. “Damn, now I don’t know if I really want to get drunk anymore.”

Michael looks over at Luke. He never realized that getting drunk was something Luke wanted to do. “You want to get drunk?” He asks.

“Yeah,” Luke says, sitting down in some waiting area outside a few doors. “It’s on my bucket list.”

“You have a bucket list?”

Luke nods. “You don’t?” Before Michael can decide if it was a rhetorical question or not Luke answers that question by continuing on. “It’s not really, like, cool or anything. Like, it’s mostly just things that most other people have done already but I’ve been sick, so I haven’t really had a chance.”

Michael is stunned silent for a second. He never realized that Luke had done that. “What kind of stuff is on it?”

“The regular: skydive, get married sort of thing,” Luke shrugs. “But there’s also a lot of like, regular teenager things? Like, get drunk and go to parties and almost be arrested and stuff.”

Michael laughs. “You want to almost be arrested?”

“Well, yeah. I’d have to be doing something really cool to be almost arrested.”

He laughs again. “Or really stupid and really illegal.”

Luke shrugs. “I dunno, I feel like it would be fun.”

Michael rolls his eyes. “You’re insane. How long have you had it?”

“It’s mostly just in my head,” Luke clarifies. “But I’ve had it and I’ve been adding to it since they said I might have leukemia.”

Michael nods, and he really doesn’t know how to respond to that. He lets the silence stay between them and it isn’t uncomfortable at all. It reminds him of what they had before, when they were still kids and just honest best friends with no crushes and Michael only had this feeling of being _wrong_ in his chest that he later identified as his sexuality. He wonders if he can go back to just being Luke’s friend, not boyfriend and not his best friend who harboured incredibly strong infatuation for him. He wonders if he can just sit on his driveway with him and sidewalk chalk and not spend half the time looking at him and being struck by how gorgeous he was.

Luke yawns, leaning his head against Michael’s shoulder. “You feel okay?” Michael asks softly.

“Mhm,” Luke hums. “Just kind of tired. I fell asleep too late.”

Michael smiles a little. “Let’s get you back to your room, then, and you can nap.”

He pouts but nods. “You can probably get a ride back home with Jack and Ben. Ben’s got to get back to school and stuff.”

“Okay, but you’re asking for me.”

Michael helps Luke stand again. “Okay.”

They walk closely back to Luke’s room, their hands bumping and shoulders bumping together as they make their way through the winding halls, passing nurses and other patients. Luke tells him on their way back, through a few breaths because he still got easily winded, that Jack and Ben know about the breakup.

Michael gets home in one piece, worried about Luke as always, and he decides to take a nap as well, which will definitely fuck with his sleeping schedule but he puts it down to the hangover.

The next week is mostly just boring. Michael corresponds with Jake but he doesn’t see him, since he’s in year eleven in Richmond somewhere, and he wonders if a relationship will come of it. Part of him hopes that it will, just so he can get over Luke, but another part really doesn’t want to and doesn’t think they’ll ever be more than friends because he’d never know how to tell Luke about Jake. He spends a lot of time with Calum, since he doesn’t know if he should visit Luke as often now, especially now that his parents know.

Michael visits as often as he can because Luke only has his cancer-friend Ashton and the nurses with him at all times now that Liz returned to work. He tries to visit more often but on some days, he just can’t drum up the energy or courage to visit Luke. He wants to make it seem like he isn’t bothered by the breakup because he doesn’t want Luke suggesting they get back together for the sole reason it would make Michael happier. He knows it’s completely unrealistic that he’s just fine after breaking up with someone he’s so, so in love with. He just doesn’t want to be a burden to Luke, especially since half the reason they broke up in the first place was the stress, and he doesn’t think he could keep being ‘normal’ if they had to cut off all contact whatsoever.

Another week later, Luke has a bad day. He’s had a few, but this one is the worst so far. He spends the night sick and can’t sleep and he’s lonely and sick, and did he mention _sick?_ Michael had plans to visit him the following day after school and it all becomes a little more pertinent when he wakes up to the flood of texts about how upset Luke is. He also wakes up to a stuffy nose and a sore throat, which makes him consider whether or not he should go since Luke’s immune system is weakened from the chemo and sick people shouldn’t be around him.

His sore throat worsens through the day and he develops a bit of a cough and he generally feels pretty crappy but he knows if he goes home, his mum won’t let him go to the hospital. When he gets to the hospital, he washes his hands for almost a full minute and when he gets to Luke’s room, a nurse is just on her way out. Apparently swearing up and down that he’s washed his hands isn’t enough, since the nurse notices his reddened nose, and she gives him a surgical mask and latex gloves to negate any chance at all that he could get Luke sick.

Luke looks miserable when he walks in, arms folded over himself and face pale and pouting with a clear tube strung over his ears and two nubbins in his nose. Michael worries that he’s getting worse and this is where his health deteriorates until he passes away. The panic almost chokes him until Luke looks over at him, sees the mask and gloves, and cracks a smile.

“What’s with that?” He asks, his voice rough. He pulls the beanie down further over his head.

“I have a cold,” Michael chuckles, sitting down. “Your nurse made me put it on, even though I promised it wasn’t that bad and I washed my hands.”

“Yeah, that’s Allison,” Luke smiles.

“How do you feel now?” Michael asks.

He sighs and shrugs. “Not great but better than this morning.”

Michael takes his hand, a layer of latex between them. “Has anything changed?”

“You mean like with my prognosis? No, they don’t think so. They’re pretty sure it was just a bad day.”

Michael nods. “I’m sorry I wasn’t up last night.”

Luke shrugs. “I mostly just needed to vent about it to someone who isn’t at least ten years older than me.” They’re silent for a little while. “Is your cold okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just a cold. It’ll be annoying and I’ll feel crappy but I’ll be okay.”

Luke smiles a little. “It’s weird not being able to see your mouth.”

“I’d take it off but your nurse would probably kill me.”

He chuckles, yawning. Michael hasn’t noticed how absolutely exhausted he looks until now. Luke squeezes his hand, looking over at him. “Will you read to me?” He asks softly, concern in his pretty blue eyes like he’s worried Michael will say no.

Michael nods. “Of course. What do you want?”

Luke smiles and reaches over to grab the book, handing it to him. “I have a bookmark in there, but you can start anywhere.”

Michael takes the book and flips to the beginning of the chapter, reading aloud to Luke until the end of the chapter, even though his cough and sore throat and stuffy nose get in the way and he has to pause every now and then to cough. Luke is asleep within the first two pages of the chapter, curled up on his side facing Michael. He puts the book down when he’s done, wishing he could climb into bed with him without waking him and without it being weird and without making him even sicker.

He leaves not long after he reads him to sleep, trying his hardest to not vibrate out of his skin with how in love he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	17. 270 912 521m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this one is a little shorter but i promise that the chapters get longer (because i realized at the rate i was going i'd have like 100 chapters and that's ridiculous)

Luke’s blood counts and all the other various other tests to determine how well his treatment was working all come back with positive results. Chemotherapy is working for him and he’s well on his way to remission. If his next tests come back this good, he’ll be allowed to go home in just over a week and it makes him feel like he’s sort of useless. He tries willing away his cancer, but of course that’s impossible and it’s an awful feeling but his nurses assure him that most people get to go home within a month and a half. And though he’ll have to come back after a couple weeks of being home, most of his time will be spent at home.

He spends a lot of his time with Ashton now that ninety percent of his time is spent alone and doing homework with his tutor. He loves him in the way he loves his brothers since he’s always able to put a smile on his face and give him advice and calm him down.

Luke showers and goes down the hall to Ashton’s room, finding him spread out over his couch playing on his phone. He looks over at him, giving him a big smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes and Luke wonders if he should turn around and go back to his room. He doesn’t. He sits down in the chair, turning it towards the couch.

“How are you doing?” Luke asks.

Ashton sighs. He’d explained a little while ago that his surgery to remove the tumour was scheduled for tomorrow and of course he was a little bit anxious. “Nervous,” he admits after a silence.

“Everything will be fine,” he assures. “After it’s out, you can go back to like, soccer and stuff.”

“Yeah, but it’ll take a while,” Ashton sighs. “It’s just scary.”

Luke nods, reaching over and taking his hand. “It is.”

Ashton squeezes his hand. “You’ll still visit, right? Like when I’m all stoned on painkillers?”

He laughs. “Yeah, I’ll visit. Please get your mum to record you when you come out of the anaesthetic.”

“I’m not all that fun,” Ashton chuckles. “When I got my appendix out I just sort of mumbled a lot.”

“Okay, if you’re fun she should record you.”

“Fine.”

Luke smiles, glad that he’s gotten Ashton to relax. He didn’t come here to cheer him up, though that was a good part of coming over. He came mostly to seek advice, since Ashton would be too fucked up on painkillers after tonight and Luke was going to be at home for a while now.

“You okay, blondie?” Ashton asks, resting his phone on his chest.

He smiles at the nickname. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… do you ever kind of regret things?”

“No, not at all,” he deadpans. “What do you regret?”

“Breaking up with Michael,” Luke sighs. “I don’t know, I feel like it doesn’t do anything. Like, if I die, he’ll still be really upset and I like being his boyfriend and even if we’re not dating, it still feels like we are, we just don’t kiss or hold hands but I really want to.”

Ashton chuckles. “Then get back with him.”

Luke didn’t really think that was the solution he’d spent an hour trying to work towards earlier. “How?”

“I dunno,” Ashton shrugs. “Just make it like some crappy rom-com and kiss him or something.”

“That’s how we got together,” Luke laughs softly.

Ashton rolls his eyes, picking up his phone to answer a text that buzzed through.

“How’d you know I’m blond?” Luke asks when Ashton clicks his screen off again.

“I may or may not have stalked your Facebook a little bit,” Ashton chuckles. “And besides, look at you. You’re too pale to be anything else.”

Luke pouts. “Rude. Why’d you stalk my Facebook?”

Ashton chuckles, pink over his cheeks. “Well, I wanted to see if you actually had a boyfriend and uh, if it was serious?”

“Seriously?” Luke laughs. “You had a crush on me?”

He sighs like this is awful but his expression is still amused. “You make it sound so childish. But… Yeah, I thought you were really cute.”

“Do you still?” Luke asks.

“I mean, I still think you’re attractive but I don’t want you to bone me or anything.”

He laughs hard enough he’s worried he might throw up. “Oh my God,” he breathes. “I love you.”

Ashton chuckles. “You too.”

The door opens, a nurse walking in and telling Ashton he should shower. Luke goes back to his room, trying to text Michael before he decides how to do it. He just prays that his blood works with him.

 

Michael received an excited text this morning from Luke, punctuated with smiley faces and exclamation points, telling him that he’s coming home. It’s a Friday morning and as much as he begs to his mum to skip school today (because _really_ he isn’t doing much of anything today except he’s got a quiz in maths) she doesn’t relent. He spends the entire day bouncing his knee and tapping his feet, waiting for a text from Luke telling him he was home safe. In second block, Jake texts him and he gets so excited before he realizes it’s just Jake and spends the next while ignoring it in the hopes that Luke will text him.

He doesn’t get a text that Luke is home until the end of lunch and it’s from Liz, telling him Luke fell asleep in the car and was in bed but he was home safe. And at the beginning of last block, Luke finally ( _finally_ ) texts him back.

_Sorry, I fell asleep. Can you come over after school?_

_Yeah, I’ll be there_ , Michael sends, unable to help the smile on his face.

He sits through a painfully slow last period about history, glancing at the clock on the wall and his phone clock every few seconds until he’s worked out exactly how wrong the clock on the wall is (two minutes and thirty eight seconds slow). By the time the last bell rings, he’s itching to get out and all that pent up energy makes him fast-walk to his locker to grab his backpack. He completely forgets to say goodbye to Calum, or anyone for that matter, as he goes down the stairs and towards home.

When he gets to Luke’s, he’s a little bit winded and he stands in his front yard for a minute to catch his breath. He isn’t sure why he’s so excited about Luke being at home, because he’ll still be receiving chemo for the next two years, approximately, but the thing is that Luke being at home means that they don’t think he’ll die. Luke is going to be okay, probably, and that’s what has Michael so excited and makes him ache to see Luke at home.

Liz lets him in, telling him Luke is in his room and Michael gives her a hug before he goes back to his room, knocking and walking in. Luke starts to stand as Michael slides his backpack off.

“No, you don’t have to stand up to greet me,” Michael starts. He’s so glad that Luke is back in his room and he’s so glad to see Pancake curled up on his duvet.

“Yeah, I do,” Luke says, going over to him. Michael opens his arms for a hug but what he gets are Luke’s lips on his.

They’re kissing.

It’s better than his kiss with Jake was, since he’s sober and it’s Luke and kissing Luke has always been a better than anything else. He relaxes into it, kissing him back while Luke’s hands knot at the back of his neck and his own go to his hips. Luke tastes like peach Jell-O and his kiss is sweet, just like always and Michael doesn’t know why they’re kissing, honestly, but he doesn’t mind at all. He’s missed kissing him just as much as he’s missed him being just across the street instead of an hour away.

Luke pulls away, his fingers brushing over the small amount of hair on Michael’s head. “Your hair’s growing back,” he whispers, smiling up at him.

Michael stammers a little, short-circuiting and unable to form a coherent answer. They aren’t together but they just kissed and Luke asks about his hair.

He smiles, kissing him gently again. “Wish mine was growing back.”

“Why are you kissing me?” Michael murmurs, chasing Luke’s lips as he pulls away.

“Because I love you,” Luke whispers. “And I don’t want to be broken up.”

He feels weak in the knees. “What?”

Luke leads him to sit, probably sensing that Michael felt faint. “I get it if you found someone else or something,” he says softly. “Or if you don’t want to do this. But I feel like breaking up was a mistake and I want to get back together.”

He wonders if he’s dreaming. “Yeah,” he breathes. “I’d love that.”

Luke kisses him again, pressing him down against the bed, too close to where Pancake is napping, apparently, since she wakes up with a squeaky meow. They kiss for a while, Michael still worrying that he’ll get Luke sick even though he’s recovered from his cold and his nose isn’t even stuffy when he wakes up in the morning. They kiss and it’s amazing and Michael guesses they’re making up for lost time when they didn’t kiss and when they couldn’t kiss like this, Michael pressed into the mattress with Luke above him.

He pulls away after a while, taking a deep breath. Luke doesn’t immediately dip back down to kiss him again, so he pulls him to his chest, worried that Luke’s supporting himself with his arms will tire him out.

“So is our anniversary the twenty-third now?” Michael asks, kissing Luke’s head.

“Can we still have it as the first?” Luke murmurs, shutting his eyes and cuddling into his chest. “I like the first. We could call this just a break.”

“Well, we totally missed our seven month anniversary then.”

Luke looks at him, smiling. “How do you propose we celebrate it, then?”

Michael shrugs, fondness pumping through his veins as he remembers Luke is all his. “Whatever you want, babe.”

“I suggest making out,” Luke smirks.

Michael can’t argue with that, honestly, and he can’t help the smile on his face as Luke presses their lips together. He has his boy back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact about this chapter! i wrote ashton mentioning his appendicitis and i was like "hmm i wonder if he has his appendix out" and then! like a week later he actually had appendicitis in real life so that was terrifying. ANYWAY please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	18. 270 911 516m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i think this is about where i realized that 2k per chapter wouldn't be reasonable and the chapters are probably a little longer from now on! enjoy!

Michael knows he should probably tell Luke about what happened with Jake, just so there are no secrets between them, but it’s really fucking hard. He can’t find a good time to bring it up. He doesn’t know how to bring it up. Is he supposed to just say, “so while you were in the hospital,” while they’re lying together? He’s nearly one hundred percent sure that Luke won’t mind that he made out with someone that wasn’t him, since Luke has made out with someone that isn’t Michael, but he can’t find the right time to say it.

He’s trying, though, and he’s trying to remember to tell Luke when they start having deep conversations because it (conveniently) slips his mind every time they do. He just knows that over dinner with Luke’s family or while they’re sitting in the backyard, Luke half-asleep, aren’t the best times by a longshot.

Luke returns to school part-time, coming in for some mornings and some afternoons, and some days not at all. He still has his tutor because his doctors have advised him he shouldn’t be in a place where there are so many people who could potentially get him sick and a cold for Luke means pneumonia instead of the sniffles. But since his tutor can’t come out every day like she could while Luke was in the hospital, he kind of has to go to class. And, Michael notes, he insists that he wants to.

So Luke returns to school and he’s flooded with questions from nosy peers and every teacher they pass asks him how he’s feeling. Michael feels a second-hand annoyance from all of it since half the people who come up are people Luke has rarely spoken to but Luke is gracious and wonderful, all kind smiles and optimistic explanations about his leukemia. He sort of guesses that Luke being sick is the most interesting thing to happen at the school since Mr. Martin ran out in the middle of a lesson because his wife had gone into labour, and everyone got over that within about a day because it didn’t take long. Luke’s treatment and his illness are both things that leave people talking for months.

Jack drives Luke to school so he doesn’t overexert himself or anything like that and Michael understands but he doesn’t really like it. He always arrives a few minutes later than Luke and he always finds him alone by his locker or talking to a particularly nosy person about his illness.

Luke shows up at lunch while Michael and Calum are eating and comparing notes for English. Michael didn’t expect him to show up, since he hadn’t even woken up since ten this morning, but he sits down next to Michael before he even notices him.

“Hey,” he says softly, kissing Luke’s head. He’s wearing a beanie, the uniform issued red one, the only one he’s allowed to wear to school. “You feel okay?”

Luke nods, yawning. “Just tired. I have a test, though.”

“In what?”

“Science.”

“I had it earlier,” Calum says. “It’s really easy but there’s a kind of a trick question in there.”

Luke nods, reaching into Michael’s lunch bag and pulling out the cookie. He breaks off a chunk and eats it, smiling at Michael.

“Come on,” Michael sighs. “Have you eaten?” He’s constantly worrying over Luke’s eating habits and sleeping habits.

“I had cereal when I woke up and I had a peanut butter sandwich before I came.”

Michael nods, kissing his head. “Then you should leave my cookie alone.”

Luke pouts at him. “What if I told you it was only half a peanut butter sandwich?”

“I’d call you a liar and tell you to eat better.”

His pout deepens and Calum rolls his eyes. “Luke, take my brownie. I’m buying myself chips later.”

Luke takes the brownie from Calum. “See? Calum loves me and he’s not even dating me.”

Michael kisses his forehead. “Uh-huh.”

Luke takes a bite, grimacing and putting the brownie down.

“You okay?” Michael asks. He was worried that Luke had eaten too much and was going to be sick, which he was sort of used to, but he knew the closest bathroom was around the corner and at the end of that hallway.

“It tastes weird,” he sighs.

Michael had heard this complaint from him a few times while he was in the hospital. Foods that Luke loved, like chicken and pasta, had all started tasting weird since he started chemo and he wasn’t allowed to eat a multitude of other things and he’d lost so much weight because of it. “I’ll take the brownie, you can have my cookie.”

Luke smiles at him, kissing his cheek and grabbing the rest of his cookie. They finish lunch together and the bell rings eventually, forcing them to go different ways. Michael sits through his afternoon classes, taking notes and actually paying attention since he has a lot of the same teachers as Luke and Luke is going back to the hospital for a week soon. Michael wants to help as much as he can and he can’t do that by not paying attention.

Michael meets Luke at his locker after school, shouldering his backpack. “Is Jack driving you home?” He asks, kissing his cheek.

“Yeah, but he wanted to go to the library first so I was thinking I’d just walk home with you,” Luke shrugs. “I feel well enough and I can nap if I’m tired.”

“You sure?” Michael asks. He isn’t strong enough to carry Luke if he gets tired halfway through.

Luke nods. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

He nods, grabbing a few things out of his locker. “Let’s go then,” he says softly, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. He was worried that Luke might be made fun of for the fact he was dating a guy and for the fact he had cancer so he tried keeping PDA to a minimum. They start down the hall together, Michael trying to steer Luke so he doesn’t bump into anyone.

“Hey, fag!” Someone calls.

Michael’s eyes land on a boy a few feet ahead of them, a boy a year older than him. His blood freezes and he pulls his hand away from Luke’s when he realizes the boy’s eyes are directly on him.

“Weren’t you and Jake Williams hooking up at that party?” The boy asks.

Luke looks at Michael and this is… Fuck.

“I’m not gay or anything, but I don’t see why you’d dump him for this skeleton.”

“Dead man walking!” The boy beside him crows.

Michael puts his hand on Luke’s back, leading him to the stairwell. As soon as the door shuts behind them, Luke pulls away from him.

“Who’s Jake Williams?” Luke asks, looking at him. He’s obviously pissed off: he can’t even look at Michael and his jaw is set.

“Just a guy from that party I went to while you were in the hospital,” Michael explains hurriedly. “I’m sorry, I was going to tell you -”

“Are you with him or anything?”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that.”

“Did you fuck him?” Luke asks.

“No, of course not. We just made out and I haven’t seen him since.”

Luke takes a deep breath. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He bites out. He still can’t look at Michael and he doesn’t think he’s angry at him but that he doesn’t want to cry.

“I was going to, I just didn’t know how and I didn’t have a good time to bring it up. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he mumbles. “I’m going to get a ride home with Jack.”

“Luke,” he whispers, trying to reach for him but he’s down to the bottom of the stairs in an instant. He sighs, following him outside, but Luke is too quick, blending in with the line of other kids from their school and Michael guesses he should just let him go.

Michael walks home, wishing he could protect Luke and fuming about those boys. He can’t comprehend how they don’t know that Luke is legitimately sick and even though he probably wasn’t going to die, joking about it or making fun of him or anything like that was just disgusting. Luke was still wearing his hospital wristband and he was still bald, which was one of the biggest indicators he had. He didn’t understand how they could even say shit like that when all the signs and symptoms were there, pointing to the fact Luke was sick with a potentially deadly disease.

It made his blood boil and he tells himself it’s just because break is coming up and everyone’s getting rowdy. That’s really no excuse, though, and he kind of wants to kick his face in.

 

Never in his life has Luke been more hurt over something someone irrelevant said. He tries his hardest to channel it into anger but by the time he gets to the library, it just really stings and he has to remind himself to breathe too many times. He finds Jack in the non-fiction section of the library, holding a book about astronomy and perusing the shelves for another one, and he approaches, his backpack feeling too heavy. He guesses pessimism just exacerbates his symptoms.

“Hey,” Jack says. “I thought you were walking home with Michael.”

Luke shakes his head, sniffling a little.

Jack frowns. “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head again. “Not here,” he mumbles.

Jack puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it before he picks up another book and leads him to the self-checkout counter. Luke follows him to the car, the same blue sedan they’ve had for most of Luke’s life, and gets in.

“Tell me what happened,” Jack says.

“Can it wait until we like, get home?” He asks, fiddling with his fingers. He refuses to look through the windshield at the crosswalk where all these kids from his school are crossing. He doesn’t want to see Michael or anyone from school, who might’ve been in the hallway when he was teased. (He doesn’t think teased is an accurate word, actually. A more accurate word would be attacked, but then he feels dramatic.)

“I’m just worried, kiddo.”

Jack starts the car, driving the few blocks home. He grabs Luke’s bag before they get out and carries it in for him and Luke doesn’t try to stop him, just follows him inside and to the couch. Jack sits next to him, watching him with big concerned eyes.

“Okay, kiddo, tell me what’s got you so upset,” he says. “I haven’t seen you like this since you were diagnosed.”

Luke sighs softly. “Michael made out with someone else while we were broken up and never told me and some asshole called me a skeleton and another said ‘dead man walking’ and it’s stupid but I’m really upset.”

Jack pulls him close. “You aren’t a dead man walking or a skeleton. He’s just an asshole.”

He sniffles, burying his face in Jack’s chest. He doesn’t want to be reminded of his mortality. Being a teenager is believing you’re indestructible and having cancer is realizing that you’re finite and he hated being reminded of the polarity of the two things.

“Do you know who it was?”

Luke shakes his head, bringing a hand up to wipe at his eyes.

“What did he look like?”

“Brown hair. Snapback. I dunno, he looked like a douche.”

“Did he say anything else?”

“Called us fags,” Luke mumbles. The cuddle is definitely making him feel better but he’s still upset.

Jack sighs. “I’ll kill him, I swear,” he says softly. “No one hurts my baby brother like this.”

Luke chuckles a little and it comes out sadder than he hoped it would, a bit more like a half sob. Jack’s grip on him tightens a little.

“What about Michael? Is everything okay with you two?” Jack asks.

“I kind of snapped at him,” Luke says. “About the whole him not telling me he’d been with someone else thing, but I mean, whatever. I don’t have to know about everything he did when we weren’t together.”

“Well, yeah, but he should’ve told you, just so there’s no secrets between you two or anything. But you should probably apologize.”

He nods. “I want to be here for a little bit,” he murmurs.

Jack nods. “Go and get changed,” he says softly. “Have a nap if you need one.”

“Thank you,” Luke says softly as he pulls away, wiping at his eyes one last time. “You’re the best.”

He smiles. “No problem, kiddo. Point out that douche to me in the yearbook, yeah? I’ll kick his ass.”

He stands up. “Like hell you will,” he says, starting towards his room. He probably should change out of his uniform. “Mum will literally kill you if you’re caught fighting.”

“Then I won’t get caught.”

“Whatever you say, man,” Luke drawls, going to his room.

He changes out of his uniform and into jeans and one of the t-shirts Michael left ages ago that’s probably gone through the wash and doesn’t smell like him anymore. It’s still comfier than his own shirts because it’s bigger and even though all his shirts are big on him now that he’s lost so much weight, this one is softer too. He doesn’t feel tired enough for a nap and he decides that if he really needs one, he can nap when he gets to Michael’s and has sorted all of this out. He pockets his phone and tells Jack he’ll be back for dinner before he goes across the street, knocking on Michael’s window because he’s nearly certain he’s in there and he might not hear him at the front door.

Michael comes to the window and slides it open. “Luke,” he says softly, almost like he’s surprised despite never having had anyone else knock on his window. “Hey.”

“Can I come in?” He asks, smiling a little.

“Yeah,” Michael says, pushing the screen out.

Luke never really realizes how sick he is until he tries doing stupid shit like climbing through windows. It takes a lot of effort and he’s panting by the time he’s done and he has to sit down while Michael replaces the screen.

“Are you okay?” Michael asks. “Do you need some water?”

“That’d be great, thank you.”

Michael disappears and comes back with a bottle of water for him, sitting next to him as he hands it over. He stays quiet as Luke drinks, keeping his distance as well.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Luke says softly. “I wasn’t really mad at you, I was more mad at whoever said all that stuff and I took it out on you.”

“It’s okay,” Michael says. “I should’ve told you about Jake before now.”

Luke pulls Michael close, lying back with him because climbing through a window is shockingly exhausting. “Tell me more about him. Is he cute? Is he a good kisser?”

“Yeah,” Michael giggles softly, pushing his nose into his shoulder.

“Better than me?”

Michael shakes his head. “You’d have to show me again,” he says softly. “Been awhile since we properly made out.”

Luke laughs. “So it’d be no problem to wait a little longer,” he teases.

Michael pouts, leaning up and pressing their lips together. Luke immediately kisses him back, his hands grabbing at Michael’s hips to bring him that much closer and he definitely missed Michael’s bed as well and Michael’s lips and getting to touch him. He missed more than just his house and going to school and Pancake. He missed making out, since they were always too worried a nurse would catch them while Luke was in the hospital, or that Luke’s family would walk in or something else.

Luke slides his fingers under Michael’s shirt, pressing into the skin as he opened his mouth against Michael’s. The first brush of tongue against tongue makes him whine, just a small squeak into Michael’s mouth that makes him pull away to chuckle.

“You’re turned on already?” He asks.

“Shut up,” Luke mumbles. “I’m not turned on. I just haven’t, like, felt your tongue in a while. It’s kind of nice.”

Michael grins, kissing him again as he pushed his shirt up as well, the pads of his fingers pressing against his spine and Luke pulls away again, hissing softly.

“Further up my back,” he instructs. Michael’s fingers were too close to the spot they’ve been injecting chemo into his spine.

Michael moves his hands, which pulls Luke’s shirt up further and he sits up, pulling his shirt all the way off and tossing it aside. It belongs here, anyway. He leans down, kissing Michael again and opening their mouths again. It’s soft and sweet and Luke doesn’t think he’s rather be kissing anyone else. Their tongues slide together and it builds, growing less soft and faster, hotter, as time goes on and eventually Luke rolls his hips down.

Michael’s head falls back and he moans softly, Luke beaming. “Want me to get you off, babe?” He asks, kissing at his jaw and down his neck.

“Yeah,” he whines as Luke sucks a mark into his neck.

Luke smiles, pushing his sweatpants down and palming him through his dark grey boxers. Michael moans softly and Luke sits up to watch him, the mark on his neck a pinkish hue that makes him want to bite a thousand more into his skin.

“God, Luke,” Michael groans. “Touch me.”

Luke pushes Michael’s boxers down, taking his cock into his hand and stroking it slowly. Michael sighs under him, his eyes fluttering shut as he relaxes into Luke’s touch. Luke keeps his hand slow, wanting to draw this out as much as he can, and he wants so badly to lean down and turn this into a blowjob but he’s already done so much today and he’s worried that it’ll make him too tired to get off himself. He’s also been warned so many times about things that could potentially be an infection risk and he thinks blowjobs might fall into that category.

He’ll settle for this, though, and he works his hand faster, making Michael stutter out a moan. Luke takes his eyes off of him and leans down to kiss at his chest gently, sucking another mark.

“Shit,” Michael breathes, pushing up into his hand. “Kiss me.”

Luke kisses up his chest to his lips, following Michael’s lead of hungry, quick kissing and trying to match the pumps of his hand with the pace of their kissing. He listens to Michael whine, and honestly his arm is a little tired, but he isn’t going to stop now when it sounds like Michael is on the verge of coming.

“You okay, love?” Luke asks against his lips, smirking at the noise Michael made.

“I’m so fucking close,” he mumbles.

Luke rubs his thumb over the tip, stroking a little faster and he looks down between them as Michael comes over his chest, his spunk landing on his skin. He wants to kiss at the skin until he’s cleaned him up but there’s the whole infection risk, even though he’s pretty sure Michael’s come wouldn’t do anything to him. Luke grabs a tissue and wipes off Michael’s chest while he pants quietly and Luke can feel his jeans are tented at the front, which isn’t altogether bad, but Luke’s lost quite a bit of weight and he’s already showing that enough. He doesn’t want to show off his pointed hipbones or the other places where hair loss has hit him.

Michael flips them over in a quick movement that Luke isn’t prepared for at all and it makes him squeal in surprise.

“God, you’ll give me a heart attack one day!” Luke chuckles once he’s recovered from his shock, feeling as Michael’s hands find his hips.

Michael chuckles, kissing him gently. “Let me get you off, too.”

Luke bites at his lip. “I’ll be fine.”

“You sure? How long’s it been since you came?”

Math isn’t really his strong suit but it doesn’t take long for him to remember. “Um, like three months?” He says sheepishly.

“Let me, babe,” Michael kisses his jaw. “You deserve a good blowjob.”

“Can I tell you some things first?”

Michael nods, his lips still working at his jaw and even though what he’s about to say is medical and technical and a general mood-killer, he’s still so turned on.

“Uh, I’m pretty much completely hairless,” he mumbles, trying to focus on Michael’s lips but then he just stutters. “L-like, everywhere. And if you want to blow me, you need a condom ‘cause there’s still like, chemo in my come, probably, and it’d be pretty bad if you ingested it.”

Michael nods. “Sounds good.”

Luke lets out his breath as Michael opens his drawer and pulls out a condom. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Michael grins, pecking his lips gently.

Michael makes quick work of getting the condom on him and blowing him and it really takes no time at all for Luke to come with a bitten-off cry, mostly because it’s been so long since he’s had any sort of friction and because Michael has amazing lips. The condom makes clean up almost as quick as the blowjob itself and he finds himself pulling Michael close, his thighs still shaking a little bit as he presses a kiss to Michael’s head.

“Your hair’s getting pretty long,” Luke notes, still a little breathless too. “Are you going to dye it again?”

Michael nods. “Soon,” he says softly. “I have to find the right colour dye and everything.”

“What colour?” He asks, tracing his fingers through the inch or so of hair dirty blond hair.

“It’s a secret,” Michael chuckles, kissing his cheek. “But you’ll see.”

Luke pouts, which always gets him, but Michael hides his face in his chest. “No,” he whines. “You have to look at me.”

“Nah.”

He huffs and relents, playing with Michael’s hair and trying his hardest not to be jealous that his hair was growing back. Luke’s hair wouldn’t grow back until he stopped chemo and that wouldn’t be for another two years. He’d been hopeful, when he went over his treatment plan with his team of doctors, that the two years of maintenance therapy would bring about the regrowth of his hair, but no such luck.

“So, you and Jake only kissed?” Luke asks. He doesn’t mean to nag, really, he’s just curious.

“Yeah, that’s all,” Michael confirms. “We kissed, we went upstairs and we made out shirtless.”

Luke nods, kissing his forehead gently.

“I mean, I’m pretty sure I want you to be my first,” Michael murmurs, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

Luke looks down at him. “Wait, are you serious?” He asks softly. They’d spoken about sex before but really only if Luke were a virgin and if they were okay with blowjobs.

Michael nods. “Well, you’ve been my first everything else and I trust you with my life, so there’s no one I’d rather have that with.”

“Me too,” Luke smiles. “But, like, not now.”

“Of course not now. When you’re better and whenever you want to, okay?”

Luke kisses him gently. “I love you so, so much,” he whispers.

“I love you too,” Michael hums, beaming at him.

Luke pulls him close, yawning. “I’m going to nap. It’s been a long day.”

“Okay. Have a nice nap, babe.”

He nods, falling asleep shortly after. He wakes up a while later to his phone ringing and it’s his mum asking him to come home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	19. 267 913 224m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i accidentally posted this chapter and this will be the third time i've saved it as a draft *sigh emoji* anyway!!! i'm very sorry about bashing the book i mention in the first little bit, i mean no harm or copyright infringement, i just needed a book and every other book on my bookshelf meant a little too much to me to bash. enjoy!

The next day, Luke manages through his morning classes with a feeling that he didn’t learn anything new at all and his brain wasn’t a sponge soaking up information but a brick blocking it all out. After school, he catches a bus, sleeps through most of the ride and wakes up in time to get off at the right stop. For once, he isn’t here for another test or a meeting with his doctors, though he does smile at all the nurses on his way up to Ashton’s room.

He finds Ashton on his couch, his leg still dressed in bandages and on a footstool in front of him while his crutches lean against the couch and he’s pressed a book into the arm of the couch, spreading it open with a hand in the crease. He looks up when Luke walks in, moving his crutches so Luke could sit and giving him a dimpled smile. He wasn’t as lively since his surgery, mostly from the ridiculous amounts of painkillers and immunosuppressant drugs they were giving him. Somehow, Ashton slept more than Luke.

“Hey,” Ashton says. “You went to school.”

Luke nods. “Yeah. You read a book,” he notes. He knows how Ashton feels about missing school but Ashton is much different since he’s a year eleven and his grades are starting to count towards university.

“I did. It’s a shitty ass book.”

Luke reaches over and grabs it, flipping it over to the back and reading the back. “’ _Squirrel is_ not _like most dogs’,”_ he reads dramatically. “Who the fuck names their dog Squirrel? And why are you reading a book aimed at ten year old girls?”

Ashton sighs. “My sister thought it’d make me feel better. And I mean, it’s an easy read and it’s a nice thing to read when you feel sick, but it definitely isn’t the best book in the world.”

Luke skims over the rest of the cover. “’ _Ann Martin’s exquisite story of a dog’s life is told with her trademark grace and insight’._ Okay, it’s about a dog.”

“Yeah, but it’s heartbreaking,” Ashton says, sighing. “Squirrel finds people and she loses people and it’s… it’s an emotional rollercoaster.”

Luke gives him a look. “Did you cry over a book about a dog that your sister gave you?”

“No,” Ashton says quickly, pulling it off as a joke. “Cancer treatment makes me emotional, okay?”

Luke laughs, rolling his eyes. “Sometimes I worry about you.”

“You should make a hobby out of it.”

He chuckles, pulling out his phone to see a text from Michael. He was bored in class, according to his pouty face and his sweet little caption.

Ashton reaches over and pokes his neck, making him flinch away. “Nice hickey.”

Luke’s hand comes up and covers it, his cheeks burning. “You’re just mad.”

Their conversation evolves from there, switching effortlessly and seamlessly between joking around to serious talks about how they were both worried about university. For Ashton it was a bit more pertinent but they both had the same fear of ‘what if’. Both of them were pretty much in the clear at this point, Ashton only needing a little bit more chemo before he was declared one hundred percent cancer free, but there was still an uncertainty about it. They both knew what their doctors had told them about having cancer at their age and how they shouldn’t stop planning for the future on the off-chance they die, but they both agree their families and friends would be massively hurt if they got accepted to a university and then just bit it.

After a little while of visiting, Ashton dozes off and Luke takes the bus home, arriving home before anyone else, which wasn’t shocking. Jack was probably hanging out with friends and his parents were both at work, so he was home alone for a little while. He’s used to it; however, Pancake is not and demands his full attention the moment he gets home, meowing around his feet and rubbing up against his legs. It would be downright mean not to indulge her.

He sits on the couch and lets her climb into his lap, covering his uniform pants in cat fur but Pancake starts purring as soon as she’s nestled up on his legs, half on his stomach. He runs his hands over her fur, feeling the softness of it and smiling a little when he scratches under her chin and she pushes into it, purring louder. He thinks how glad he is to have gotten her, which leads him to thinking about luck.

He’s lucky to be here. He’s lucky to be here right now with his cat and he’s so lucky that he still _can_ feel her purr and know how her fur feels under his fingers and get little licks from her and her sandpaper tongue. It’s the stupidest thing to get upset about, honestly, because he isn’t going to die anytime soon, his doctors are very sure. But there’s still that small chance, the reminder that about twenty percent of kids with his kind of leukemia never reach remission and that a lot of adults never reach remission.

And yet he’s here instead of the other people who have had this kind of leukemia and he can’t help but wonder why. Why him? Why is he alive and why did he get it in the first place? It was the worst form of bodily betrayal he could think of, that somewhere in the production of his blood it all went wrong and he landed _this_ bullshit.

Luke sighs, wiping at his eyes and trying to think back to this morning. He took all his meds this morning, including the antidepressants and antianxiety meds (and the supplements and the vitamins) so he shouldn’t be all depressive and crying because his cat is cuddling with him. It’s just hitting him that he is so lucky to be here and it’s counteracting the pessimistic questionings of why his body had to fuck up and land him a potentially deadly disease.

He isn’t out of the woods yet, so to speak, but he is still here and that in itself is amazing.

 

Finding orange hair dye is difficult, as Michael finds. He said he’d never do orange but that was before he found out it was the colour for leukemia awareness, and even though there isn’t much he can do to raise awareness he wants to do it. He considers mixing blond and red dye together to achieve an orange hue, but that’s so risky and it’s only worth it if he actually knows what he’s doing, which he doesn’t. He also considers just buying a bottle of red dye, the supposedly natural colour, but he’s worried he’ll end up too red. He finally finds his desired colour, a bright, vibrant orange colour, and he buys it.

Luke goes back to the hospital for another round of chemo, getting settled on the weekend that break starts when Michael dyes his hair. It ends up exactly the way he wanted it and his hair is a little shorter than it was before when he dyed it, but it looks just as bright as he wanted it to. And even though Liz warns him that Luke is grumpy, he smiles when Michael walks in and immediately reaches to play with his hair. Michael sits next to him and lets him run his hands through his hair.

“You said you’d never do orange,” Luke says softly, smiling a little.

“Oops,” Michael grins, looking at him from the awkward angle his head is at.

“Why? You said you hated orange.”

“You’re going to call me a sap.”

Luke pouts at him. “Tell me, babe.”

“It’s the colour for leukemia awareness.”

He smiles, kissing Michael’s head again. “I’d kiss you but I was sick earlier.”

Michael kisses his cheek. “There.”

“Thank you,” Luke murmurs. “That’s so sweet of you, okay? Like, you said you’d never do orange but you did it for me.”

“Of course,” he says softly, kissing his forehead.

They spend the next few hours together, talking and cuddling and Michael just trying to make Luke feel better anyway he can. It sucks to see him feeling so shitty and there’s nothing he can do for him except rub his back and read to him.

Luke’s time in the hospital only lasts a week this time, one tedious week of break that Michael spends with Calum or in the hospital with Luke. This time, he has a chance to be with him while he receives chemo, holding his hand while he gets effectively poisoned for a few hours. He’s able to talk to him, to comfort him and take his mind off of it, all with the help of Ashton, the boy from down the hall that Michael finally meets after hearing about him so much. (He likes Ashton a lot because he tells really good jokes and he always makes Luke laugh at least once but he’s also an incredibly compassionate person underneath that entire joking and sarcastic exterior.)

Luke comes home after a week and even though he doesn’t feel very well, he still spends a lot of time with Michael and his tutor, trying to catch up on everything he’s missing. Michael wonders if he’ll just be doing homework for the rest of his life; at this rate, it seems like it.

On a Wednesday, Calum invites Michael out to a party and a few hours after, Luke texts him and asks him to come over for a bit, since he wanted a hug. Michael feels a little bad that he’s choosing a party over his boyfriend but he doesn’t want them to spend so much time together they get sick of each other so he compensates. He gives Luke a hug before he goes to the party, explaining his reasoning for it, and Luke agrees with him; getting sick of each other would suck. After he gets a pout from Luke about how he wishes he could go out and experience regular teenager things like parties and drinking, he promises to get him drunk once he’s done chemo, show him a fabulous time with alcohol.

Michael gets smashed that night and sends Luke a lot of drunk texts, which he’s told the next day were the highlight of his entire day even though they aren’t as funny sober as they were when he was drunk. Luke comforts him through his hangover, though, which is way nicer than the last way he spent his hangover, which was on a bus to see Luke while they were broken up.

They go back to school a few days after that, which is dreadful, but he nearly manages through his first day. It’s between the afternoon blocks, when Michael is starting to get excited about the fact this is his last block of the day and he can go home and play video games all he wants after this block, and he’s minding his own fucking business, carrying his binder to his locker to swap it out with his history binder and hoping that Luke is doing well.

“Mr. Clifford!” Someone says and he sees it’s the junior English teacher, Mr. Edwards.

“Yes, sir?” He asks, stopping a few feet in front of him, off to the side so he doesn’t block anyone.

“ _What_ do you think you’re doing with a hair colour like that, young man?”

Michael is confused. He didn’t get anything but a compliment from Mrs. Ramirez when his hair was blue, green and white and black. “Uh, trying to raise awareness for leukemia?” It seems like the best answer, honestly, and he’s hoping that he eats it up.

“Well, having hair such a vile colour isn’t doing anything except making you look like a thug.”

That kind of stings, actually. “Sorry, sir, it wasn’t my intent to look like a thug.”

“Go down to the office. You shouldn’t be at school while breaking a dress code rule this severe.”

“I’ve dyed my hair before without consequence,” he says, unable to keep the irritated tone out of his voice. He was seriously about to be sent home for having coloured hair when he’d already done three other colours without any incidence.

“Those were respectable colours.”

“And orange, to try and raise awareness for leukemia, which my boyfriend is currently suffering from, isn’t?”

Mr. Edwards crinkles his nose. “Go to the office.”

Michael nearly rolls his eyes. The hall has already filtered down to fewer students at this point, less of an audience. “Why?” He asks, even though he probably shouldn’t.

“For disrespecting me and for disrespecting the school rules.”

This time, he doesn’t hold back the eye-roll, and he goes down the hall to the office despite the fact he could turn the other way and only be a few minutes late for history. He’s fuming since he’s never been dress-coded for anything before, even when his hair was blue, even when it was white, and he gets dress-coded for having orange hair for a good cause. He could totally understand it if he’d been warned about his hair colour when it was blue and when it was green, which were decisions based on what he thought would _look_ good instead of trying to do something that _was_ good. But he’s never been lectured before this, and he’s really, really pissed off.

It turns out that Mr. Edwards called the office while Michael was walking there to make sure he made it there or some shit and he’s pulled into the principal’s office for a chat.

“Why did you decide to dye your hair, Michael?” She asks him, hands folded together on her desk. Her tone and her face were _concerned_ , like he might be a part of a gang of orange-haired kids.

“I did it because it’s the colour for leukemia awareness,” he says, trying to keep the anger in his chest out of his voice with more success than he thought he’d have. And he knows that the entire staff at the school knows about Luke, knows that one of their students has leukemia.

She nods. “You’re aware it’s a violation of dress code.”

“There are kids here with orange hair naturally. Are they in violation of dress code?”

“Michael, their hair is naturally orange. Yours is very vibrant and the dress code states that all hair colours should not call attention to the student.”

Michael can’t believe any of this. “So dyeing my hair bright blue was fine?”

“No one reported you at the time and we’re not saying it was fine,” she says calmly and it’s so condescending Michael wants to roll his eyes until they fall out of his fucking head.

“I dyed my hair for Luke,” he says. “And this is the most natural colour I’ve had besides my actual natural hair colour.”

“Perhaps you should think about dyeing your hair back to that colour,” she says. “For now, I’m only going to give you a warning. If you’re reported again next week, there will be harsher consequences.”

Michael sets his jaw. He has to change his hair colour _again_ or start wearing hats to school and hiding it, hiding what he’s trying to make people aware of. “Fine,” he mumbles. There’s no use in arguing and even if he gets detention, it’s no real detriment to him or his grades. It just means sitting in a room for an hour after school with the kids who are caught smoking on school grounds and things like that.

“Have a nice day, Michael.”

He doesn’t tell her to have a nice day back, just gets a late slip from one of the secretaries and goes to history, absolutely fuming. There’s a kid in the school who called Luke a dead man walking, literally made fun of his illness, and to the best of his knowledge, all he received was intimidation from Jack. It isn’t fair at all and he sends his mum a few lengthy texts about it, telling her that if she gets a call, it’s because of this and if she could write him a note for the time being, it would be awesome. He also texts Luke about it and Luke, the type who hates conflict, tells him he wouldn’t mind if he dyed his hair a natural colour.

Part of the thing is Michael doesn’t want to waste his mum’s money. Hair dye isn’t _really_ expensive but it also _is_ expensive at the same time and they don’t have a lot of money to spare for frivolity.

They aren’t poor or anything, it’s just that they’re a single-parent household and his mum doesn’t earn very much; it keeps them eating and it keeps a roof over their heads and clothes in their drawers but it leaves little room for ‘luxury items’. He doesn’t want to ask his mum to buy more dye so soon after the last time, when his hair turned out better than he expected it to and it’s still fresh and his roots aren’t even showing yet.

It’s just that’s it all so thoroughly disappointing. He’s disappointed that he got yelled at for doing his hair this colour when it means something, and all blue and green and white have been to him are changes. He didn’t expect to be yelled at over it and he sort of expected his reasoning behind it would count for something, especially to the staff who’d all been exceptionally understanding for Luke about his illness and missed school. He didn’t expect this at all and it’s disappointed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	20. 171 072 002m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rmr when i said longer chapters well oops i got confused consistently longer chapters come a little bit later but i hope you all stick around and i hope you enjoy this!!!

Luke is in the hospital for their ten-month anniversary, and while they agreed that celebrating monthly anniversaries is kind of dumb, it means more to Luke now that he’s acutely, _painfully_ aware that for as much as he _doesn’t_ think about the possibility, the reality is that he might not make it to the next, or the one after, be it from leukemia or… lightning strikes or something. So he wants to celebrate it, but he’s too busy receiving chemo and being stuck in the hospital. For the actual day of their anniversary, Michael skips his last two blocks (even though he insists it wasn’t skipping) and brings store-bought cupcakes. And even though chemo absolutely _kills_ his appetite so he isn’t very hungry, he manages to pick his way through half of one.

Michael tells him about how he was trying to save up for a guitar strap but that he also wanted to save up for new music, even though he didn’t quite know what he wanted to buy. He tells him how the only problem is that his weekly allowance is only five dollars and the guitar strap he’s had his eye on is just under thirty and he doesn’t want to wait six weeks. Luke devises a plan after Michael leaves, and asks his mum for some money.

The week after Luke gets home, he’s bogged down with school and so is Michael, so they can’t belatedly celebrate their ten month anniversary. He wanted it to be that Saturday but he has three tests on Monday and a big project due so his weekend is spent mostly with Michael and Calum just doing homework. The following week is gruelling as well, and Luke almost doesn’t feel up to anything the next weekend but he still manages to go shopping with Jack on Saturday afternoon.

It works out well that Luke’s parents go out for dinner with Michael’s mum and originally, Michael was going to come over and Jack was going to order pizza or something. However, since Luke wanted to celebrate (seventeen days late), he changed things up and decided to go over to Michael’s. He goes over with his backpack, full of homework and his things for Michael.

“Hey, I was about to come to yours,” Michael says when he opens the door.

“Change of plans,” Luke smiles, kissing his cheek. “We’re celebrating ten months even though it’s like, nearly our eleven months.”

Michael smiles. “Okay.”

They sprawl out in the living room, doing homework together and Luke gives Michael the album and guitar strap he bought him, which results in them making out for a little while, right there on Michael’s living room floor. They pull away in a fit of giggles when Luke’s stomach growls.

“I’m going to be all domestic,” he murmurs. “And I’m going to cook you dinner.”

Michael laughs softly. “Babe, you don’t have to. I’d be fine with pizza or takeout.”

“I’ll have to know how to cook one day,” he teases, pulling away and kissing his lips quickly. “And you’re going to help me.”

“No,” he groans.

“Oh, come on. All you have to do is open a couple of cans for me.”

“What are you making?”

Luke stands, heading for the kitchen. He’d planned all of this out with Michael’s mum, which was kind of the dorkiest thing he’s ever done but he wanted their anniversary to be sweet. “Spaghetti.”

“You’re a fucking nerd,” Michael laughs, following after him.

“Yeah, but you love me.”

Making dinner is easy. Luke makes a homemade sauce that he learned from his mum and Michael sits on the counter, his heels bumping against the cupboards at his feet. However, it becomes evident that Luke doesn’t know how much pasta is enough for two people when he’s trying to serve it and he has two plates of leftover pasta alone. It’s just like his mum makes it and it’s the first big meal he’s made and he’s really proud of it.

They spend the rest of the evening lying together on Michael’s bed, listening to the new Temper Trap album and holding hands, just lying there. It’s one of the best nights of Luke’s life, even though they don’t do much.

The week after his next round of chemo, Luke, despite all his best efforts, gets a cold. It starts on Monday night and he spends the entire evening denying the tickle in his throat and the malaise that means a cold and not just a side effect from chemo. When he wakes up in the morning, he has the worst sore throat he’s ever experienced, almost so bad he can hardly swallow his meds. He wasn’t planning on going to school until the afternoon but he can’t go at all for fear it’ll get worse or something.

Having a cold while on chemo is something Luke was hoping to avoid. He washed his hands so often he’s pretty sure he’s the reason the school regularly ran out of soap and he never touched his face and kept his distance from anyone who was sick. He definitely didn’t want to be sick because it meant staying at home until he was better, which would take twice as long as normal, and it meant he had to visit his doctor for (more) blood tests and all sorts of different things to determine whether or not he had something life-threatening.

Luke spends his morning, alternating between being on the phone with his mum, who was worried and was asking if he needed her to come home from work, and his doctor, describing his symptoms and just telling him he had a cold. By the end of it, he’s almost lost his voice and he has to take a nap.

He runs out of things to do by his third day home, since he’s been basically quarantined (which means an abundance of Skype dates again) so he steals Ben’s guitar. (It isn’t really stealing because Ben is at university and will never know and never even picks up the old thing.) It leads to a multitude of problems, of course, because the guitar hasn’t been used in nearly two years and needs to be tuned. Michael helps him with that and he helps to teach him as well, which is an added bonus.

Luke’s tests come back normal, which is a fucking blessing because he doesn’t want to be a complete inpatient again and he doesn’t want to have an infection. He’s allowed to return to school when he feels better, which he’s pretty sure will be never, even though Ashton reminds him he’s being dramatic.

He wakes up when there’s a knock on his door and he groans, which makes him cough. He’s too hot under his blankets and he’s sweating a little, all from his fever which was blessedly below thirty-eight, and his throat hurts.

“Can I come in?” Michael asks from the other side of the door.

Luke hasn’t seen him in person for nearly a week. “Yeah,” he says, his voice scratchy and too deep.

Michael opens the door slowly, still in uniform and looking all cute.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Luke says, rubbing at his eyes. He’s exhausted and his voice sounds stupid because of his congestion and his voice having disappeared thanks to his cough.

“Yeah, well, I’m a bit of a rebel,” he says softly, sitting down. “I’ve washed my hands, though, for thirty seconds like all the health experts say to do.”

Luke smiles, tugging himself over to put his head in Michael’s lap. “I don’t want to get you sick, though.”

Michael rests a blessedly cool hand on his head. “I’ll wash my hands again and I won’t kiss you.”

He nods, even though he wants a kiss. He’s in a relationship, dammit, he should be allowed to kiss his boyfriend. “What time’s it?” He’s too lazy to lift up his head and look at his clock.

“About three,” Michael shrugs. “How do you feel?”

“If you think about getting run over by a bus,” Luke sniffles, reaching back for a tissue and knocking the box off his side table. He sighs. “That feeling.”

Michael picks up the box, handing him a tissue. “You poor thing,” he says softly. “And you’re all hot.”

Luke wipes at his nose, which burns because he’s been doing it so often and the skin has gotten sensitive. “You hitting on me?”

“Maybe,” Michael smiles. “I could make you soup or something.”

“Not hungry.”

“You have to eat. Have you eaten today?”

“I woke up at like, eight and I had a granola bar.”

“C’mon, I’ll make you some soup and toast or something and you’ll feel better.”

Luke pouts, coughing and covering his mouth so he doesn’t get Michael sick. He relents, though, since Michael insists and since he has to take all his meds with food. He sits while Michael heats up chicken noodle soup on the stove, listening to him talk about his day. He doesn’t notice, in his sick stupor, that the clock on the wall doesn’t read three o’clock, but reads lunchtime instead and he doesn’t notice that his brother isn’t home. He notices when he wakes up, though, after Michael leaves, but he doesn’t know how to bring it up even though he hated that Michael was skipping school for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think with kudos, comments (it's the november comment challenge!!!) or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	21. 121 191 768m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was one of my absolute favourite segments to write so i hope you all enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it

He finally does go back to school, though, and stops having to rely on teachers to send his assignments and his tutor to help him all the time. It’s still part time like before, so he still misses things every day and it isn’t until now that it’s all starting to pile up. Luke has been given so much latitude with his homework and so many compensations have been made. Instead of doing group projects and presentations, he’s been doing essays and worksheets and things and his teachers have reduced his homework load drastically to reduce his stress and because he’s still regularly going to the hospital for chemo treatments.

Even with all those exemptions, Luke’s homework and the list of things he’s missed has grown exponentially. He’s faced now with a mountain of work. Most of it depends on him knowing things they learned in February when he got sick and missed work for tests and general illness and he doesn’t even dare telling them this, telling his teachers that he doesn’t understand what he’s supposed to be doing to make this better. He’s so far behind he feels like he’ll never catch up.

Luke goes over to Michael’s in the middle of June, promising himself he’s going to get to work and he’ll prioritize and get all of this sorted out. Calum and Ashton are coming down and they’re resurrecting their old study group with the addition of Ashton. Luke is (perhaps mistakenly) hopeful that Ashton will be able to teach him some of the concepts since he’s a year older.

They’re all sat around the table, Michael and Calum efficiently working on trig questions while Luke struggled on Pythagorean Theorem questions. The numbers were starting to all blur together and not even look like numbers anymore and all the triangles looked the same.

“You okay, Luke?” Ashton asks, toeing his shin. He’s sat across from him, finding quotes from _Macbeth_ for an in-class essay. Luke wishes he were doing that.

“I don’t understand it,” Luke sighs. He knows he’s been over this with Amelia like, three times but it all goes in one ear and straight out the other.

“What don’t you get?” Ashton peers over at his paper.

“Just. All of it? Like, I’ve got A squared here and C squared here but it’s asking me to find B squared and I don’t understand how to get it?”

Ashton, with some difficulty and limping, scoots his chair over so he’s closer to him. “It’s just algebra, mate,” he says, taking his pencil. “So, look, what you have to do is you have to just rearrange the equation a little bit, okay?” He writes the equation out and puts in Luke’s numbers. “Now you just bring the B squared over here and then bring C squared back with the A squared. Get it a little better?”

He stares blankly at his paper. It was so fucking easy. “Yeah,” he says softly. “Thank you.”

“No problem. Did all that last year,” he beams. “Trust me, I was shit at it too. I think I got like, seventy percent in that class?”

“Lucky,” Luke mumbles, sighing as he punches the numbers into his calculator. “I think I’m failing.”

Ashton shrugs. “Math’s a dick and I mean, it’s not your fault. You’re sick.”

“But still. I shouldn’t have gotten this far behind. I have a tutor and I have all sorts of allowances being made for me and I’m still failing like, half my classes. I had to drop PE completely.”

“Luke,” Ashton says softly. “You have cancer and your health comes before any school projects. What do straight A’s mean anyway?”

“University,” Luke sighs. “If I don't get into university, then what?”

“Luke, you’re only in year ten, don’t beat yourself up about this. They don’t start _really_ looking at your grades until year eleven and twelve.”

“If I fail math this year, I’ll have to take it again next year,” Luke says. He’s getting too worked up over this, starting to spiral into anxiety and he knows this is going to end in him crying which leads to a deep embarrassed feeling and he just wants it to be tomorrow or something.

“You’re not going to fail math,” Ashton says, squeezing his shoulder. “Take a breath.”

Luke feels like an idiot but he does it anyways and it makes tears appear in his eyes. He looks up at the ceiling and blinks them away.

“Your health comes before school. Always. It’s more important that you’re alive than it is that you have valedictorian level grades. Let’s go for a walk.”

Luke nods, standing up while Ashton grabs his crutches. He was now NEC, had completed his treatment while Luke had another round left before he started a two year regimen.

“You guys okay?” Michael asks, looking up from his textbook and his conversation with Calum about sine and cosine.

Luke nods, giving him a shaky smile.

“Just going for a quick break,” Ashton explains before Luke has a chance to speak.

He half-crutches, half-limps to the front door, sitting on the steps with Luke. They sit in silence for a little while, Luke sniffling as he tried to regain his composure and tell himself he wasn’t stupid, he wasn’t stupid. He just had cancer and his doctors warned him that sometimes chemo affected learning and that was half the reason he’d been given a tutor. He had cancer and his health was more important than his grades.

“Are you better?” Ashton asks softly.

“A bit, yeah,” Luke murmurs, wiping the last of the tears away. They hadn’t spilled over or anything but they’d made his eyes a little damp.

“What’s your favourite place in the whole world? Like, the one place you love going?”

Luke shrugs. “I dunno, I like the beach but I haven’t been in a while.”

“The beach is nice,” Ashton agrees with a nod. “I just hate finding sand in places there should never, ever be sand.”

Luke smiles. “Under your toenails is the worst.”

“Try under your foreskin.”

Luke looks over at him, too shocked to laugh. “Are you serious? How?”

Ashton holds back laughter as he shakes his head, his smile cracking through his otherwise sombre expression. “Sex on the beach is better left as a drink.”

“Oh my God,” Luke laughs. “You’re kidding, you have to be kidding.”

“I’m not. I swear to God, it was the most painful thing of my entire life. Seriously, do not have sex on the beach.”

Luke laughs, putting his head in his hands and Ashton laughing next to him.

“Got you to laugh,” he smiles, his laughter filtering out.

Luke gives him a playful glare. “Oh, that was all a ploy to make me laugh?”

“To cheer you up, yeah. Come on, let’s get back inside. I still have to create a thesis statement and you have loads to do.”

They both stand up and go back inside, sitting down at the table. Michael leans over and kisses his cheek when he sits down, giving his hand a quick squeeze before they start working again.

Luke somehow manages through exams, even though he breaks down about twelve times and spends an inordinate amount of time with Amelia, trying hard to learn through the fog his meds created in his mind. After exams, he’s once again admitted to the hospital, a little later than they’d planned because of his cold, for his last round of chemo until he has two years of maintenance therapy.

He isn’t really excited for the chemo but he’s excited for the end of it. It means he can go back to school full time, for the most part, and that they can finally take the damn PICC line out of his arm. It hasn’t been a hindrance so much as an annoyance, always affecting his cuddling with Michael and rubbing at the sleeves of his shirts. It means he’ll be essentially NED before he turns sixteen and if that isn’t the best birthday present he’s ever received, he isn’t sure what is.

The hospital is lonelier without Ashton there just down the hall all the time, not just a small walk away but instead a text away like Michael and Calum are and even then he isn’t available all the time because he’s busy catching up at school. He makes friends with the nurses instead, and Ben teases him that all of them have fallen in love with him but he’s just friendly and nice to all of them, even when they have to give him needles and he winces. He knows they’re mostly used to younger patients and he isn’t sure what their experience with teenage patients is but he sees no reason to be rude; they’re just doing their jobs.

It’s kind of nice that it happens while they’re on break because it means Michael doesn’t even have any classes to skip. It’s also nice because it means he’s less lonely since Michael and Calum come to visit him nearly every day and it makes him realize he has the best friends in the whole world.

The Friday before he’s released (before he finally doesn’t have a tube in him at all times, thank God) he receives a text from Ashton telling him to clear his calendar for Sunday. He didn’t really have much planned but he was going to lounge around home and see Michael and spend the rest of his break recovering. He was going to bask in his few days of being unencumbered by chemo before he started maintenance, a series of oral pills that he’d have to get used to all over again.

On Sunday, Ashton shows up just after lunch and it’s all overcast and a little cold. Luke, at his mum’s request, takes a coat and a sweater before he goes out to Ashton’s car. It’s some shiny greenish-bluish thing and it looks like it’s older than Ashton.

“Hey,” he says when he gets in, tossing the coat in the backseat but keeping hold of the sweater, just in case.

“Hey,” Ashton smiles. “I got my P’s yesterday cause it was my birthday.”

“You never told me that,” Luke says, offended as they drive off a little shakily.

“You never looked close enough at my wristband,” Ashton counters, teasing. “Anyway, I would’ve but I was so busy doing the damn test and pissing myself about not failing, and on top of that being smothered by my family and friends because you know, I lived to see another birthday and I passed my test.”

“Well, congrats. And happy birthday.”

Ashton beams. “Thanks, man. I’d have brought Michael with us but I can only carry one passenger under twenty-one or something. I dunno.”

“Where are we going?”

“The beach, of course. You said it’s your favourite place and you just finished what, part two of three of your treatment? That’s something to celebrate!”

Luke smiles a little. “Thanks,” he says. “And I mean, I’ll be sixteen in a week so I guess we could celebrate that now.”

“Yeah! You’ll be sixteen and I probably won’t be able to come see you on your birthday so let’s just celebrate both of our birthdays, then.”

Ashton’s perpetual optimism was Luke’s favourite thing about him. He didn’t understand how he could pull it off but his dimples were nearly always poking through. “Awesome. Stop at the next store, yeah?”

“Gotcha,” Ashton says.

He stops after a few more minutes in the parking lot of a supermarket, Luke promising to be right back. He grabs his wallet from his coat and goes in, coming back out with his purchase concealed in a brown paper bag, per his request.

“What did you buy?” Ashton asks, starting to drive again.

Luke shrugs. “You’ll see.”

When they get to the beach, Ashton parks in the nearly empty parking area (thanks to it being winter and all) and he leads Luke to the picnic area with his mysterious brown paper bag. He can see the ocean, smell it too, and best of all, he can hear it. He makes Ashton turn away while he gets it out and prepares it, which isn’t really hard, and then he lets him turn around to see a cake, complete with candles that he lit with a match.

Ashton laughs. “Who blows out the candles?” He asks.

“Both of us, dummy,” Luke answers. He leans down with Ashton, blowing out all twelve of them that the pack came with.

“Now what?” Ashton asks again as Luke plucks out the candles. “How are we going to eat it?”

“There are plastic forks in the bag,” Luke smiles. He’d thought of everything, honestly.

Ashton opens the pack and hands one to Luke. They sit at the picnic table, no regard for slices as they eat their way through it. Luke doesn’t eat a lot and they’re left with a quarter of the cake that they both swear will make them sick if they eat. It’s a little more pertinent for Luke, though, because he’s still doing chemo. They end up throwing it out but it doesn’t feel like a waste of money or anything; that was probably the best purchase of his entire life.

When they’re done with the cake and it’s been discarded in one of the trash bins, they walk down to the water, Ashton struggling a little with the sand and his still recent surgery. They survive, though, and it’s colder down by the water from the ocean breeze. The waves are coming in just a few feet in front of him and Luke knows he shouldn’t go down to the very edge and let the water lap at his feet. He’s wearing Chuck Taylors and skinny jeans and his shoes would stink like the ocean for the rest of forever.

He does it anyway.

“What are you doing?” Ashton asks as he takes the few steps to the edge where the waves are beaching.

Luke shrugs, giving him a bright smile. “Will you hate me if I get ocean water in your car?” He asks. Ashton had told him on their way down that he’d spent so long saving up for it, even though it was literally the second cheapest offer he found that wasn’t shady.

Ashton shrugs. “Might make you help me clean it,” he teases.

Luke smiles, stepping into the damp sand. It takes a moment before the water seeps into the canvas of his shoes and soaks his socks, a little cold. He’s reminded of coming to the beach with his family when he was younger and when they still had their dog, Ginger. His dad would roll up his pant legs and play fetch with her while standing in the shallows and he would wade knee-deep with his brothers. He remembers playing with his brothers at the beach with sunscreen stinging his nose, building crappy little sandcastles that never turned out quite the way they did on TV and always got swallowed by the ocean.

And now here he is, almost sixteen and lucky. Lucky to be alive and lucky to be able to feel the cold of the ocean against his skin as it filtered through his shoes and his pants and lapped against him. He’d probably have to shower again, but he doesn’t really mind. He feels well, if a little full, and he’s here smelling the ocean and being near it when he hasn’t been since before he got sick. It’s his favourite place and he sort of wants to lie down right where the waves break and feel them wash over him but he thinks his doctors would disapprove of that and run all sorts of tests to make sure he wasn’t dying or something.

“You okay?” Ashton calls. He’s taken a seat on the sand a few feet away, watching Luke.

Luke nods. “I’m good,” he says. He kind of loves Ashton for bringing him here. He wanted to come ever since his room at the hospital overlooked the ocean a little but he knows his mum would be weird about it and would turn it into a big deal.

He doesn’t know if Ashton had any other plans other than this and he’s a little worried that he’s disrupting them. He takes his valuables out of his pants pockets and moves them to his sweater pouch, just in case, and sits down right where the waves break. It’s uncomfortable, the water seeping into his underwear and he thinks that this was maybe a poor idea, but he can feel the water so much better this way. He sticks his legs in front of him, getting his legs wet and sighing happily.

“You’re sitting on a towel, Hemmings,” Ashton says, closer to him.

Luke looks up at him and he’s behind him. “You brought towels?”

“Duh. I thought you’d be an even bigger idiot about the water.”

“Well, look at you. All prepared and shit.”

Ashton sits a foot behind him, where he’s at no danger of getting wet. “Prepared is my middle name.”

Luke laughs softly, the water flooding through his clothes and the sensation isn’t altogether pleasant but it’s also kind of nice all the same. After a few more minutes, it has him shivering and when he checks the time, it’s later than he thought and they should probably start getting home. Ashton fetches one of the towels for Luke, who attempts to pat his jeans dry which goes about as well as cutting bread with a bottle. Luke, as Ashton said he would be, is forced to sit on a towel on their way home and he has to wrap his feet up in a towel as well.

They stop at a red light after about ten minutes of driving, still in Sydney proper with the sun starting to set behind the clouds, making it dark rather than illuminating the sky in reds and oranges.

“You hungry?” Ashton asks, looking over at him.

Luke shrugs, checking the time on his phone. His mum would ask if he’d eaten by the time they get home and he had all that cake earlier, but he should probably eat something else. “I could eat,” he says.

Ashton turns, pulling into a McDonald’s parking lot. “When was the last time you had fast food?” He asks.

It makes him think. “God, January? Maybe?”

“Then I’m buying you fries.”

“I can’t go in like this,” Luke says, motioning to his soaked legs.

Ashton puts the car in reverse, driving into the drive thru. He orders two Cokes and three orders of large fries, paying for it all and handing Luke the bag and drink tray. They eat the fries right out of the bag, the grease burning Luke’s fingers a little, in the parking lot while the sun starts to set. They don’t say much and Luke thinks about his doctors telling him to eat healthy but he doesn’t think that one day of cake and fries will be a hindrance. He’s been eating healthy for the past five months now, he should get one day of this.

Ashton’s phone buzzes as he starts crumpling up the bag the fries came in. He pulls it out and smiles, which reminds Luke of the day they met. “Aw, no, you’re taken,” Luke teases.

He laughs. “Nah, I’m not,” he says.

“Then who is it?”

“My friend Alisha. She goes to my school.”

“And she’s just a friend?” Luke teases again. He didn’t know what Ashton’s sexuality was since he’d joked about having sex and dating Luke but his smile was just this side of fond.

Ashton shrugs. “Yeah, I mean, it’d be cool if she were more but I don’t think I’m over my ex.”

“What happened?” Luke asks before he thinks to stop himself. “Like, only if you want to tell me and stuff.”

“He couldn’t handle the diagnosis,” Ashton sighs. “I understand and like, I don’t hold anything against him, but I’m still mad for him.”

“I’m sorry,” Luke says softly.

Ashton tosses him a grin. “It’s fine, I’m getting over it. And now I can go out partying again, so I’ll get over him soon,” he smirks.

“Be safe and, for God’s sake, if I get a text about the person you hook up with, I will find you and I will kill you.”

He laughs. “I doubt it, kiddo.”

They go home after that, the radio turned up to drown out both of them singing along, horribly off-key, though Luke notices through the din that Ashton can actually sing. It takes them an hour to get home and Luke answers all his mum’s worried texts, reminding her he’s fine even though his pants feel disgusting and his legs are still damp. When they get back to his house, the sun is completely set and Luke reaches back to grab his jacket.

“Thanks for today,” he says softly. “It was really fun.”

“No problem,” Ashton says. “Thanks for the cake.”

“You’re welcome,” he reaches over and hugs him before starting to get out. Moving makes his legs feel even grosser.

“Hey, Luke,” Ashton says when he’s halfway out the car, walking funny because of his wet pants. “Happy birthday, too. I’ll call you on the actual day, but yeah. Happy birthday.”

“Thanks, man. I’ll see you later. Have a good night.”

Luke goes inside, taking a shower and going to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com) please please with comments and kudos and bookmarks, they mean so much more than you think!!!!


	22. 120 376 424m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for anyone who's a little tetchy about vomiting, this chapter contains a bit of it so be warned and be careful! there's also some slurs in this chapter as well! drama! i hope you all enjoy it very much though

Michael doesn’t think there’s anything worse than Luke having his first day back from school after break coincide with his birthday, but it’s bearable. Michael and Calum get to school early and wrap Luke’s locker in wrapping paper and by the end of the day, it’s covered in well-wishes and birthday wishes which makes him light up when he sees it. He spends the day with Michael and his family and it’s not a sweet sixteen like in the movies, but it’s a damn good one anyway (mostly since it ends in handjobs and making out, but that’s neither here nor there).

(Michael also does not think about how it’s the one year anniversary of them kissing for the first time, tries not to think about twelve months ago when Luke was well and Michael’s hair was fading green. He doesn’t think about the birthday cake kiss out in the cold after Calum left but he does think about how they’ve been together for nearly a year.)

Luke also starts his new meds and they’re low-dose, he explains, so the side effects shouldn’t be as severe, but as he finds out, they take some getting used to. His first day on them, he has a stomach ache and he’s tired but the side effects wear off after a little while and he’s back to feeling like he normally does.

Michael waits outside his house for him to come out, checking his phone for what feels like the thousandth time in case he was going in late or getting a ride with Jack or something. He worries a little that Luke got horribly worse and had been taken to the hospital but Liz would’ve called him and if it had happened in the last hour, he probably would’ve heard it. He considers sitting down but there’s dirt and he’d get his uniform pants dirty.

Luke finally jogs out his front door, pulling a beanie over his head. “Sorry,” he says, taking Michael’s hand and kissing his cheek. “Got in a little fight with mum over breakfast.”

“How come?” Michael asks as they start walking.

He sighs. “I’m not hungry but she made me eat anyway,” he says.

Michael kisses the side of his head. “Well, it’s good to get something into you when you have school. You’d faint if you didn’t eat.”

“I guess, yeah,” he relents.

They walk to school together and Luke, as he normally does, sits for a few minutes against his locker. Calum joins them after a while and walks to class with Luke while Michael heads in the other direction for science, completely unprepared to learn about biomes and food chains. He manages through it, though, even though he’s tired and he wants nothing more than to fall asleep right there on the table. After class, he meets Luke in the hall on the way back to his locker, catching up with him easily and touching his back.

“Hey,” he says softly. “How was history?”

Luke sighs. “Historical. I don’t know. I feel sick.”

“You could always go lie down in the office or something.”

He shakes his head. “Nah.”

“You sure? I don’t mean to offend you because you’re hot but you don’t look very well.”

He shakes his head again, squeezing his hand and giving him a tiny, shaky smile. He keeps walking and Michael is pretty sure the nausea is all in his head by the time they’re passing Mr. Edwards’ room, which Michael has tried his hardest to avoid so he didn’t get called out for his hair again. (He’d been avoiding walking down this way since it happened and it’s worked, he hasn’t gotten even one comment on it from anyone.)

Luke stops feet from their locker and near a bin. In one stride, he walks over and leans down, getting sick into it and Michael winces, going over and touching his back. Luke spits into it, taking deep breaths as Michael wonders what the hell he can do. Their school stopped selling anything but diet soft drinks last year in an attempt to promote healthy eating and they’d taken ginger ale out of the machines.

“Are you okay?” He asks softly, totally apathetic to the fact they were sort of blocking other people.

“I’ll be fine,” he breathes.

“Hey!” Someone calls, a familiar voice that makes Michael look up. “I didn’t know skeletons could puke, let alone eat!”

It’s the same guy as last time and Michael sees red, he swears to God.

“Mikey,” Luke says weakly from beside him, but he’s completely deaf to it.

“What did you say?” Michael asks, voice hard.

The boy laughs. “What? You’re going to defend him?”

“Fucking might, asshole.” Michael then wishes that there were better words, more insulting things to say. He wishes he could remember more of those really hurtful phrases so he doesn’t have to rely on ‘asshole’ and then suffer from the spirit of the stairs later.

“I’d like to see you try, faggot.”

“Michael,” Luke says from behind him. He’s stayed near the trash can while Michael has gravitated towards the boy, his fists balled.

Michael is, of course, a pathetic mixture of scrawny and pudgy so it might have been unwise for him to pick a fight with a tall eleventh year. He lands his first punch, which connects with a totally unsatisfying _fwump_ against his chest. His knuckles ache, but he goes in again, reaching this time for his face and putting his shoulders into it.

The other boy is far better versed in fighting, though, and he grabs Michael’s hand before it hits him. He pushes Michael against the lockers beside him and he hits his head, hard, against the metal. It hurts and he sees stars for a minute. The boy punches him across the face and he can’t help the grunt he makes at the pain.

“That was really cute,” the boy mocks, making a simpering face at him. He’s gripping his wrist tight and it hurts.

Michael pulls his leg up, kneeing him in the groin hard enough he lets go and doubles over. He starts trying to punch him again but he doubts it hurts him at all, since he’s beating at his back. He’s considering fighting dirty, nails and teeth, when his arm gets grabbed and he’s pulled away from the other boy, his arms stopping. He doesn’t realize how much it’s been exerting him to do that and watches another one of the teachers pull the other boy away.

 _Fuck_.

He can see Luke, still near the garbage can, mouth and eyes wide. And when he glances to see who’s holding him, he sees that it’s the Spanish teacher and he gives up. He’s in trouble, obviously, and he lets himself be pulled away, past the little crowd that had formed to watch. Michael keeps his face downturned, rage still boiling in his stomach as he walks down to the office.

Not only does he get a week-long in-school suspension, a call to his mum, a stern talking to in which he defends himself and is told that maybe he should “tone things down” with Luke and they’ll “look into things” with the other boy, Brad, but he gets a visit from the school’s police offer and a talk. Violent behaviour isn’t tolerated, he’s told, and he fucking knows that. The entire thing is completely misinterpreted and Michael tries to tell them that he was attacked, too, that the side of his face hurts and that he was called a faggot and that asshole made fun of his cancer-patient boyfriend.

He’s sent home and they almost make his mum come down from work to pick him up and it makes guilt burn in his stomach. He doesn’t want to know what will happen when she gets home and he worries all his way home, his head aching and his face smarting. His knuckles hurt, too, and he spends his entire walk home thinking of how nice a cup of tea and some ice will be.

Luke is sitting on the couch and Michael doesn’t notice him until he stands up. “Jesus Christ,” he gasps, thinking he was home alone. “How’d you get in?”

“You left your backpack in your locker and that’s where you keep your key,” Luke shrugs.

Michael nods, thinking that this conversation isn’t about where he keeps his house key. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Another teacher saw me puking and made me go home.”

They’re silent again, staring at each other as Michael wonders how he could move this conversation along. He doesn’t know what Luke is going to say.

“What’s your punishment?” Luke asks.

“A week of in-school suspension and probably a huge lecture from my mum later.”

Luke nods. “You don’t have to stand up for me,” he says. “And I’d rather you didn’t.”

There’s an edge to his tone that Michael doesn’t like. “It’s just that he’s such a dick, Luke,” he sighs. “He’s made fun of you twice now for having cancer and that’s awful.”

“I can deal with it,” Luke says. “His insults are weak as fuck anyway.”

Michael sighs. “But still, he’s an asshole.”

“And you still shouldn’t fight with him. Talk to the admin about it. I don’t want to see people beating the shit out of you.”

“I didn’t -”

“Yes, you did, look at yourself. Who looks worse?”

Michael is silent and he sighs. “I’m just worried about you.”

“I’m fine, Michael,” Luke assures. “I’m pretty much in remission now and being called a skeleton is laughable.”

“I know, but… never mind,” Michael sighs. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.”

The fight, if it was one, is pretty much over now but Michael doesn’t feel like it’s over because there’s still tension between them.

“You should ice your face,” Luke says softly after a minute of tense silence.

Michael’s hand reaches up, presses gently into the side of his face and it hurts. “Yeah.”

Luke walks past him to the kitchen and Michael turns, watching after him. Luke returns, wrapping the blue ice pack in a tea towel and pressing it against Michael’s face gently. He hisses, since the pressure hurts and it’s really cold.

“You okay?” Luke asks quietly, his other hand reaching up and gently touching his jaw.

Michael nods. “Yeah,” he breathes.

Luke kisses him quickly. “I know it hurts.”

He nods again, taking over cradling the ice pack to his face.

“And you’re a huge idiot,” Luke says softly. “And you’re my idiot. But you should stop being idiotic enough to take on kids like him. Or anyone for that matter.”

Michael pouts, wrapping his free arm around Luke’s waist. “I can’t be your knight in shining armour?” He likes that they’ve gotten rid of the tension.

Luke laughs softly. “Not today, love.”

They cuddle together for a little while but Michael sends Luke home when he starts falling asleep, right there against him. Michael gets him back to his house and comes back home, waiting impatiently for his mum to come home and unavoidably lecture him, as though he didn’t get enough of that already. He tries doing what little homework he can while he waits, staying in the living room instead of retreating to his room as always.

His mum comes home at five-thirty, getting changed out of her work clothes before starting dinner and Michael, sitting on the couch on his phone, wonders when he’ll get lectured. When she came in, she asked how he was and was really shockingly nice to him, considering that she got called at work about him being in a fight. He didn’t really expect a lecture first thing after she got home because she’s been battling with traffic and work, but he kind of expected a lecture or at least a general air of discontent.

“Michael,” she says, her call for dinner.

He goes to the kitchen, sitting down at the small table with no real hunger. His face still hurts and his stomach is in knots from anticipation.

They’re both quiet for the first few bites of dinner, until his mum speaks up and he nearly gets whiplash looking at her. “You got in a fight today,” she says, her tone a little disappointed.

He nods, taking a bite of food he wasn’t hungry for just so he didn’t have to reply.

“What happened?” She asks.

“He insulted Luke,” he mumbles, hardly able to look at her. “For the second time. And me. Called us fags and he made fun of Luke for being sick. And it’s just not fair.”

She sighs softly. “You should’ve told your principal or your teachers.”

He takes another bite so he doesn’t have to answer. He knew of two girls that had been told to “tone it down” when they were cuddling and got teased about it so he suspected he wouldn’t be taken seriously either.

“I’m disappointed you chose to attack him rather than use your head, Michael,” she says. It stings, even though he knew it.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly.

He gets the lecture he expected he would through dinner and it makes his stomach hurt, honestly. He hides in his room after he’s choked down as much as he can, and he texts Luke for the rest of the night, glad she didn’t take his phone away. He’s resigned to a week of in-school suspension and not seeing Luke at school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	23. 120 030 823m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: i know literally nothing about snowtown or the snowtown case or the movie

First thing on the first day back at school, Michael is called down to the office to get a final talking-to from the principal. It’s awful and he’s let go right before the bell rings, going back to Luke’s locker since his class was closer from there than from his locker. He pulls his backpack up a little higher on his shoulder, weaving through the crowd of people all clogging up the hallway and gets to the end, where he can see Luke talking to someone.

It isn’t strange for Luke to be talking to people because now that everyone knew about his cancer, they all wanted to know what it was like and how he was doing. It doesn’t bother him that it’s a girl talking to him because he knows Luke loves him. He just approaches and stands back beside Calum as the girl hugged him and started turning away, Michael returning her small smile only to realize it was Olivia.

He looks at Luke, worried because he still remembers how they broke up. “You okay?” He asks, squeezing his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Luke says, kissing his cheek. “She was just saying I’m like, in her prayers and stuff.”

He nods, kissing his forehead as the bell rings. “Are you coming over on Wednesday night?”

Luke beams, grabbing his binder. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Michael nods and kisses his cheek one last time before he goes to class. He sits, being the first one there, and wonders how Olivia went from avoiding Luke at all costs, despite him expressing an interest in being friends or at least amicable, to telling him he was in her prayers. It was the kind of gross behaviour that Luke’s cancer brought on and Michael, honestly, was kind of sick of it and he couldn’t imagine if it was him. He’d never have the grace Luke did in answering those questions and replying to those people.

He thinks that maybe he’s being too cynical about the whole thing, that maybe those kids were genuinely concerned about Luke. Michael was and decided to try and view it from their perspective. Luke was a constant in their lives, he guesses, just as he was in Michael’s life. Each year, they came to school with the knowledge in the back of their minds that they would see Luke Hemmings, that blond kid who moved from somewhere a few years ago and hung out with Michael and Calum. They would be worried if one day they found out he might not come to school anymore and that he might not even get to be a person anymore.

So, he decides that he’ll stop rolling his eyes at the people who come up to Luke in an attempt to not be bitter and cynical.

 

It’s baffling to Michael that he’s been in a relationship with Luke for an entire year. He spends half of lunch with Luke on Wednesday making Calum roll his eyes or fake a gag, cuddling with him and reminding Calum of when he was dating Zoe and he was just as disgusting. And as much as Michael wants to spend every waking moment of today with Luke, he goes home until around dinnertime to do some homework with his tutor.

They set up downstairs when Luke comes over since there’s a TV and DVD player and they’re planning on watching a movie of Luke’s choosing, without Michael’s mum hovering or interrupting. The first thing Luke does after giving Michael a quick kiss, is tear the cushions off the couch and grab pillows from Michael’s room and his duvet. He fashions a little fort out of it, crawling in and reaching for Michael with his hands gripping the duvet.

“I’m dating a four year old,” Michael muses as he crawls in, curling up in Luke and smiling when he wraps his arms around him. The basement is cold and winter is still in full swing so the warmth is welcomed.

“Well, it turns out that _I’m_ dating a grumpy old man,” Luke teases, kissing Michael’s head.

Michael laughs, pushing his face into Luke’s chest. He smells like the hypoallergenic laundry detergent his mum uses and his soap and they’re both welcome smells. “Happy one year, babe.”

“Can you believe it?” Luke says softly, a little amazed.

“Barely,” Michael hums, looking at him.

“I can’t believe I ended up with someone as gorgeous and wonderful and sweet as you.”

Michael’s heart flutters but he rolls his eyes (with probably the dorkiest grin on his face). “Deeper than the ocean.”

Luke kisses him, which gets rid of the dorky smile and he giggles a little against his lips before pulling away. “You love me.”

“Sometimes,” Michael teases.

“All the time,” Luke pouts.

He kisses his pout. “All the time,” he agrees.

Luke beams and they get the pizza they ordered from the door, bringing it back downstairs and huddling down in their blanket fort again. Once they’ve eaten and Michael is feeling sort of drowsy from the long day of getting up early and going to school, he cuddles up in Luke’s arms again, feeling for all the world safe and warm and totally in love.

“What movie did you get?” Michael asks, letting his eyes shut and listening to Luke’s heartbeat.

“Okay, you’re going to hate me for it,” Luke warns. “But I got a horror film.”

Michael chuckles. “Awesome.” He went to a sleepover with Calum and some of his friends and they watched a horror movie, a pretty shitty one, but it still made him nervous. “What did you get?”

“ _Snowtown_ ,” Luke says, a little bashful.

“Wait, like the town?” Michael asks. “Isn’t it near Adelaide?”

“Yeah, but remember all those murders that happened there when we were kids? We were like, three, I think? There was some serial killer there or something.”

Michael just looks at him, the pieces falling into place.

“ _Snowtown_ is based off that case.”

“Oh God,” Michael mumbles, pushing his face into Luke’s chest. “This is going to creep me the fuck out.”

“I’m going to be honest, I only got it because I googled good horror movies and that was one of the first ones that showed up and I was like, ‘oh, look, it’s Australian’ and then I found out it’s like, local and creepy. So, sorry.”

Michael grumbles all throughout Luke putting the movie into the DVD player, knowing that he’s going to be extremely freaked out from this because not only is it a horror film, it’s one based on events that happened close to where he lives. The thought makes his skin crawl, honestly, but he just cuddles up with Luke and thinks that at least he can be the scared boyfriend and get cuddled up with Luke.

That isn’t what happens, though. The movie starts off normally enough, with little in the way or horror or horrific things, but there’s tension. There isn’t any big splashing of guts – that comes later when they commit their first murder, and Michael can’t look away while Luke squeaks and curls closer. Michael thinks it’s just the blood, since Luke has never dealt with blood very well and almost fainted when he had to get a transfusion, but it happens again when there’s another bit of a jump-scare. Luke flinches and the pillow fort comes crashing down on them, making Michael yelp.

“Are you okay?” Luke asks, his hand still on Michael’s belly even though there’s pillows and blankets separating their faces as suspenseful music plays on the TV, that they can’t see.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Michael laughs, starting to push the blankets off them. “You’re such a wimp.”

Luke groans and Michael grabs the remote, pausing the movie. “I’m sorry,” he whines. “It was scary and I flinched and it toppled over.”

Michael is still chuckling when he kisses Luke and it’s just a bump of their lips since they’re both smiling. “You’re so cute,” he whispers against his lips, fondness pumping through his veins. “I love you so much.”

Luke giggles, his fingers tangling in Michael’s hair and pulling him closer. “I love you too.”

They kiss for a minute, their grins sliding off their faces until Michael pulls away, chuckling at the memory of what he woke up on the radio this morning. “You know what day it is today, babe?” He murmurs.

Luke makes a face, giving Michael an amused look that also tells him he thinks he’s a moron. “Our anniversary?” He says after a minute, chuckling.

“Well, yeah, but.. Hump day,” Michael grins, waggling his eyebrows and moving closer, his grip on Luke’s hip tightening a little.

Luke laughs. “You’re such an idiot,” he teases. His fingers tighten in Michael’s hair, pulling him closer to kiss him again and Michael knows that he’s Luke’s idiot and it’s kind of an amazing feeling.

 

Michael, unexpectedly, survives that semester and so does Luke. He misses a few days due to doctor’s appointments, which all involve blood tests and bone marrow tests and loads of needles and Michael feels bad for him even though he knows Luke has gotten much better with needles. Stupidly, when Luke walks in late to math and gives their teacher a note about it, he receives a lecture and Luke nearly yells at him but he fiddles with his hospital bracelet and beanie enough that the issue is dropped.

Luke survives Jack graduating, as well, and he spends an entire evening worrying about what next year will like while Michael tries to reassure him that it’ll be fine, that nothing bad will happen to him without his big brothers. He reminds him that he’ll no longer have to put up with Jack teasing him at school and Luke is momentarily soothed before he remembers that in two years, he’ll be graduating and Ben will be graduating as well, which makes him freak out about impending adulthood.

Michael calms him down, though, reminds him that adulthood isn’t that scary and it’ll be lovely and independent and he can move out. Luke asks, in a quiet voice, if he could move out with Michael and honestly, Michael doesn’t think they’ll be together for another two years because that’s just such a long time and no high school sweethearts ever make it through college still together, but he promises Luke anyway just to see him smile.

He survives the exams and he survives the year, which he’s really glad about and he’s really glad that Luke survived the year too, and not just the school year in which his homework load increased a hundredfold.

Michael’s bedroom is hot even though his window and door are both as wide open as they get to let air flow through. He’s watching a movie on his laptop, something Calum recommended that’s passing the time well despite the fact the male lead is just kind of boring. He pauses the movie when he hears the home phone ring, checking his phone just in case. No one usually calls for him on the home phone since he got a cell phone, but there’s still that worry in Michael’s chest that Liz would call his mum if Luke had died.

He eavesdrops to the first minute of conversation but his mum moves further into the house where he can’t hear her without straining, so he starts the movie again. She moves back into the living room soon after and he quickly pauses it again.

“No, you can’t just do this to him,” she hisses. “This isn’t fair.”

Michael wonders who she’s talking about and he wonders if it’s him.

“Fine. But only five minutes.”

He hears her coming down the hall and plays his movie again, hoping it isn’t obvious that he’s terrified about who she might be talking to and that he’s been eavesdropping.

She knocks on his door, holding the clunky home phone to her chest to cover the microphone. “It’s your father,” she says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i'm sorry this one is a little shorter but i really like cliffhangers please forgive me. please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	24. 117 746 679m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bwoop so this chapter deals with some stuff i have very little knowledge or experience with so forgive me my errors and i hope you enjoy it!!

Michael blinks at her. His father, who left when he was seven and spent the next year calling and visiting on a schedule but by the time he was nine, his calls only happened at Christmastime or Michael’s birthday. When he was eleven, they stopped altogether and he spent that Christmas ignoring how much he missed his dad. The last time he’d heard from him was when he was twelve and it was a brief phone call, mostly just wishing him a happy birthday and telling him he was sorry he hadn’t called.

It’s been four years since he’s heard from his dad and this is sort of everything he’s wanted since he stopped hearing from his dad and something he wants to reject. He wordlessly takes the phone from his mum, holding it to his ear.

“Hello?” He says quietly, sheepishly. His mum goes to the hall.

“Hi, Michael,” his dad says and Michael can feel his heart racing in his chest. “How are you?”

It’s then that he realizes how much his dad doesn’t know about him. He missed his coming out, the first time he dyed his hair and when he fell in love with Luke. He missed Luke being diagnosed and he missed Michael getting into a fight and he missed so much. “I’m good,” he says softly.

“Yeah? That’s good. How’s school?”

“Uh, it’s good,” Michael says softly.

“Meet any girls?”

Michael forces a small chuckle because his dad chuckled so he should too. “No, not really,” he says. He isn’t sure why he’s so hesitant to come out to his own dad.

“Oh, any boys?”

“Uh, yeah, his name’s Luke.” That’s nearly the worst description he’s ever given of his boyfriend but he’s still kind of terrified.

“That’s awesome. How long have you two been dating?”

“Nearly a year and a half.”

“Oh, wow, congrats, that’s really good. Is he nice?”

“Yeah, he’s – he’s wonderful.”

“That’s great. I’d love to meet him one day.”

A wave of strong nausea rolls over him. He hasn’t seen his dad in literal years and his dad talks about wanting to see his boyfriend first. “Yeah,” he manages, his mind whirring to try and find an excuse to hang up. There was the semi-pertinent excuse that he feels like he’s going to be sick.

“Look, Mike,” he says and Michael nearly gags. The only shortening of his name he accepts is “Mikey” from Luke. “I’m sorry I haven’t called. There’s really no excuse, but I got busy and I still thought about you every day.”

“Thank you,” Michael says softly.

“I’d like to be a part of your life again, if you’re okay with that. I understand it’ll take some time, but I’d love to have you in my life.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“Yeah, uh, do you want to talk to mum?”

“No, but thanks. I love you, bye.”

Michael hardly manages the, “yeah,” he breathes out before he hangs up.

Once he’s returned the home phone to his cradle, narrowly avoiding a talk about it with his mum while he still receives sympathetic looks from her, he goes back to his room. He’s only really been drunk twice but he feels like he needs to be drunk, preferably five seconds ago, even though he’s always thought people saying they needed a drink was tacky. He needs a fucking drink and, naturally, the first thing he does is grab his phone and dial Calum’s number.

“Hey,” Calum says when he picks up, sounding like he’s at the tail end of a sigh. “What’s up?”

“Is there any way you can get me to a place where there’s hard liquor?” Michael asks. No use beating around the bush when his chest feels tight and he feels like he might start shaking any second.

“Yeah,” Calum says. “Alex is throwing a party tonight and I was going to go.”

“Okay. Thank you.” He feels a bit better now with the knowledge that he can get drunk soon and maybe get rid of this feeling.

“Yeah,” Calum mumbles. He sounds upset and Michael isn’t in a place where comforting people is on top of his list but he thinks that comforting Calum might make him feel better or something.

“You okay?”

“I miss you,” Calum admits so suddenly Michael nearly gets whiplash. “I’ve known you for ten years and I haven’t hung out with you since January, I think, probably.”

Michael didn’t even realize and he’s stunned silent. “I’m sorry, Calum, it’s just-”

“I know, it’s that Luke is sick and it’s terrifying because he’s your boyfriend, I get that. But I haven’t properly hung out with you since before he was sick and I miss you. You’re my best friend.”

He’s filled head to toe with almost crippling guilt. “Calum, I’m sorry,” he says as earnestly as he can.

“It’s okay, honestly. Can we just be friends again?”

“Yeah, shit, of course. Are you free now? I’ll come to yours or something and we can go to that party together because I really, _really_ need a drink.”

“Yeah, sure. Come by whenever. You okay?”

“I’ll explain when I get there.”

Michael changes his shirt, tells his mum he’s sleeping over at Calum’s and leaves.

 

He’s so drunk. After an afternoon of playing video games with Calum, which got his mind off The Phone Call, he’s at this party and he’s taken a few shots, which were all fucking awful, and he’s burned his way through a couple beers and he thinks some wine. He’s smashed to hell and back and he doesn’t even care that he’s going to have a beast of a hangover in the morning and his mum will definitely know he’s been drinking.

Calum advised him to get some fresh air when a girl, a short girl with long hair that looks like it was supposed to be curled but had deflated into weak waves, started dancing with him. He danced back, wondering what the difference was between girls and guys that made all the difference to his sexuality and made him so partial to the latter. This, of course, was all thought in strings and half-formed sentences that disappeared when she grinded against him and tugged gently at his hair as she complimented it.

So, after Calum grabbed his arm and dragged him to the back door, he’s here, standing among the smokers. They’re all puffing on plain cigarettes, holding sweating beer cans and Michael can tell, through the smell, that deeper into the backyard someone is smoking pot.

“Hey, Michael,” a familiar voice says and he looks over, seeing Jake among a group of kids. He isn’t smoking, but he has his arm around Liam’s waist and Liam is one of those super fit guys that Michael can’t decide whether he wants to be or bang. “Do you smoke?”

He shakes his head, standing up off the railing.

“You want to try?” He’s already fishing in Liam’s leather jacket pocket, retrieving a pack of smokes and a lighter.

He’s already handing him a cigarette by the time Michael’s alcohol-addled mind has come to a decision. “Why not,” he shrugs, taking the cigarette. He immediately feels cooler, like he belongs in a punk band wearing leather and sporting a facial piercing.

Jake lights it and guides him through his first pull, warning him that he might be dizzy and he might cough but that’s all normal and he did too. Michael takes a pull and nausea and dizziness, stronger than anything, wash over him and he’s certain he’s going to be sick as he starts to hack. He feels like he’s dying as he turns around, leaning over the railing and feeling a little bit of guilt for the fact he’s about to be sick on a gorgeous hydrangea. He coughs until he gags but he doesn’t get sick and he can hear Liam and Jake chuckling behind him.

“Mate, you need a drink?” Jake asks, offering up his vodka cooler.

Michael takes a sip to calm his throat and he loves that kind of cooler but mixed with the ashy taste of a cigarette, it tasted more like ass. Fuck.

“Here, try again,” Liam says, stepping forward.

Jake holds his beer as Liam teaches Michael how to smoke and by the end of it, he doesn’t think it’s really that bad. He’s still dizzy but it’s a little more pleasant now like the dizzy feeling he gets after going on a rollercoaster and his mouth still tastes like ash but it isn’t as severe. It was like the first time he tried beer, sort of.

Liam gives him a pack of cigarettes as well, a pack he just bought as he teases that he can just share with Jake and they both collapse into a fit of giggles, looking at each other so fondly that Michael wishes Luke were more into parties and could enjoy himself at one. He invited him to it, he thinks, after Calum told him to come over, but Luke was sleeping. Probably. Michael isn’t really sure what happened this afternoon except that he played Halo for a while and then came here.

The next twelve or so hours are hell. Michael throws up twice on their way home and Calum comments on how he stinks of cigarettes to which he just shrugs. Calum is the one who pushed him outside so technically it’s his fault that Michael smells like an ashtray. They go back to Calum’s and Mali-Koa scolds the hell out of them since Calum’s mum is already in bed but Michael just feels sick and very tired. He falls asleep on Calum’s floor and wakes up in the morning to the worst hangover of his entire life; nausea and headache like he’s never felt before plaguing him so bad he doesn’t even know if he can move.

Michael does move, though, to get sick again in Calum’s bathroom and leaves for Luke’s, sending him a text to ask if he’s home. He can spend the afternoon sleeping with Luke since he’s slept with him when he smelled like vomit and hospitals, so Michael’s smelling like cigarettes and booze and vomit shouldn’t be too bad. He showers and gets changed, the stench of cigarettes still clinging to him, before he gets a reply from Luke that he’s at the hospital for the IV chemo he still has to get, but Michael is free to come visit.

An hour on transit, stuck on a bus with a screaming baby, is not Michael’s ideal way to spend a day with a killer hangover but he does it anyway since he doesn’t want his mum to know how much he drank and how he still has a pack of cigarettes and a lighter in his pocket. He gets to the hospital and sits in the waiting room for a little while, just to regain his composure because after the short walk from the bus stop to the hospital, he feels sick again.

“Michael?” Someone says and he looks up, rubbing over his face.

Sitting beside him is Luke’s friend, Ashton. “Oh, Ashton,” he says, his voice rough.

“My God, you look like hell,” Ashton chuckles. “What happened?”

“Too much alcohol,” Michael grumbles. Some alarm was beeping somewhere and it made his head throb.

“Yeah, I can still smell it on you. Cigarettes, too,” he says the last part quieter, like he’s a little ashamed.

Michael sighs. He sprayed on cologne and washed every part of his body and brushed his teeth nearly five times to get rid of the taste of vomit and cigarettes and he was wearing fresh clothes. How could he still smell of cigarettes? “Yeah, some people at the party last night were smoking…”

Ashton raises his eyebrows. “Uh-huh,” he says, totally disbelieving.

“Okay, yeah, I smoked,” Michael sighs, his thoughts going to how pissed Luke is going to be. Just last week he was talking about how he hates when people smoke at bus stops and he referred to cigarettes as cancer sticks and yeah, that’s all pretty accurate. Luke is going to be pissed.

“Well, don’t do it again. I’ll leave the big proper lecture to Luke but seriously, chemo fucking sucks. It’s one of those things you don’t even wish on your worst enemy.”

Michael rubs over his face. “I know,” he says softly. “There’s no excuse but I was just really drunk and I made some shitty choices.”

“You didn’t cheat on Luke or anything did you?”

Even through his hangover from Hell, he manages to be truly affronted at that. “Of course not.”

“Good,” Ashton says, relaxing a little.

Michael still feels a little tense around him and a little possessive whenever he sees him with Luke because he worries, a little part of him, that Luke would be better with Ashton, who could understand what he was going through and understand his anxieties better than Michael ever could. But Ashton, according to Facebook, had recently gotten with a girl named Eliza so Michael was a little less worried.

“So any reason for going out and getting so drunk you smoked?” He asks.

He’s so fucking friendly and Michael isn’t really sure how to tell Luke. Luke had always shied away from the conversation of Michael’s dad since he guesses that he felt bad or something. He isn’t sure but he didn’t really want to just dump all his emotional problems on Luke on a day he had chemo. He sighs and thinks he probably has nothing to lose by telling Ashton. “My dad called yesterday.”

Ashton nods, giving him time to finish.

“And he hasn’t called in literal years and he called yesterday and I told him about Luke, because he asked, and he said he’d like to meet him. That’s what he said before he said he wanted to see me again. I haven’t seen him since just after my parents got divorced and he wants to meet my boyfriend before he wants to meet me. And he waits _years_ to call and I thought that he didn’t want me as his son and then he says that nah, he just got lazy and didn’t call. How is that fair?”

Ashton is quiet for a while and Michael thinks he might be supposed to go on but he’s tired and that was all the energy he had. “I know how you feel,” he says after a while. “My dad isn’t around either but I don’t really remember him all that well. But yeah, I know how you feel. That isn’t fair to you at all and you don’t have to let him back into your life if you don’t want.”

“I want him to be a part of my life,” Michael explains. “But I just don’t want it _now_. I want it years ago, when I thought he didn’t love me anymore and I was a wreck about it.”

Ashton squeezes his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I wish I could help you more or something. But hey, if you ever want to talk about it, you have me on Facebook.”

Michael smiles a little. “Thank you.”

“Mikey,” Luke says from across the room, making Michael look up immediately. He’s pale but he’s smiling, walking over and passing his mum as he does.

Michael stands up, hugging him when he gets close enough and even though the smell of Luke’s shampoo makes his head throb, he’s happy. “Hi, sweetheart,” he says softly, pulling him in tight and frowning internally because Luke is starting to get taller than him.

“You okay?” Luke whispers.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Michael murmurs. “Are you?”

“I’m good. I still hate needles.”

“You’re so brave. If I had something and I had to get as many needles as you do, I think I’d just die.”

Luke chuckles softly, kissing his cheek as he pulls away.

After Luke has a small conversation with Ashton, they go home together and Michael spends the day sleeping with Luke, trying not to feel guilty that he hasn’t thrown out the pack of cigarettes and doesn’t plan to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	25. 67 781 547m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so just a little thing here abt the michael's dad situation which is never explained: i got uncomfortable writing it and i completely dropped the plot and promised myself i'd mention it later, which i do, but it isn't the same as writing it through. i want to go in and add a few scenes but this chapter came up in my queue before i had a chance to sit down and think about how to write that so i just want to say i'm sorry for the plothole. anywho, this chapter includes one of my favourite scenes ever and i really hope you enjoy it. actually, this might be my favourite chapter...

Michael resolves to give up smoking, to never touch the pack Liam gave him and to forget he ever did smoke. He puts the cigarettes in his drawer and promises himself he’ll give them back to Liam at the next party he goes to, but a party doesn’t happen for a while and he doesn’t feel compelled to go to one, so they sit in his drawer. Less than a month into the new year, while they’re still on summer break, Michael and Luke get in a fight that feels like the end and he just wants something to take the edge off, so he goes onto the back porch and smokes again. It’s only twice, honestly, it’s not like it can really hurt him that bad.

Their fight is resolved, even though Luke yells at him when he smells the cigarette smoke on him, and they go on as normal.

Before Michael knows it, his second anniversary with Luke comes and goes with a day of kissing and cuddling and he’s faced with the beginning of year twelve, which is fucking terrifying. That summer brings about some changes and Michael dyes his hair purple and pink, because they were having a two-for-one sale where he buys his hair dye and it was too good of a deal to ignore. He also finds himself Googling about eyebrow piercings more and more frequently, wondering if he would look good with one.

The only problem is that their school doesn’t allow piercings and enforces it. Michael watched a girl break down in tears once because they made her take her nose piercing out and he doesn’t guess that an eyebrow piercing, far more obvious than her small silver stud, would be accepted. He’ll have to wait until after graduation, which, he realizes with a start, is less than a year away.

Michael is currently in his room, working on homework while belting along to an album playing off his laptop. It’s math, because of fucking course he has to take math in year twelve if he wants to go to university, which he does, and he’s doing all right with it since it’s the beginning of the year and it’s easy. He knows that by the end of the year, he’ll be tearing his hair out and praying to anything that he passes with an okay grade.

There’s a knock on his window and Michael immediately stops singing, looking over to see that it’s just Luke. They’ve been climbing into each other’s windows for years now and they’re turning seventeen this year but they’re still doing it. He sighs softly with a chuckle and pushes his screen out, helping Luke climb in.

“You have a nice voice, you know?” Luke smiles, kissing his cheek.

Michael rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but it’s your job to say that. You and my mum’s.”

“I’m not just saying that,” Luke assures, sitting down on his bed as Michael replaces his screen. “Seriously, it’s very Billie Joe Armstrong.”

“Okay, you are just saying that,” Michael says. He sits down again and shuts his textbook on his pen to keep the page.

“I’m dead serious, love, you sound fucking awesome.”

Michael just frowns at him, pouting out his bottom lip and Luke flops into his lap in an apology.

“I had a doctor’s appointment,” Luke says and that’s normal.

“Yeah?” Michael asks, cradling Luke’s head in his hand.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “About like, what’ll happen when treatment is over.”

Michael glances quickly at his calendar across from him, seeing that it’s been almost two years since Luke was diagnosed. “Yeah?”

Luke nods, a grin spreading on his lips. “Yeah. They said that I’m not going to feel like, one hundred percent better right away but I’ll feel good by the time we graduate.”

He smiles and presses a quick kiss to his lips. “Holy shit, we’re graduating,” he grins, his fingers running over Luke’s scalp.

“Yeah,” Luke beams. “And I’ll have hair by then. Finally. I’ve sort of forgotten what it’s like.”

“Annoying,” Michael assures him. “You’ve got to wash it and dry it and if you’re me then you’ve got to dye it and remember to get it cut or else it falls in your eyes. And hair dye is expensive and dyeing it all the time is bad for it.”

Luke giggles, pulling him down for another quick kiss. “You’re so dumb.”

“Sorry, babe,” Michael chuckles, kissing him again.

Luke leans up into the kiss, pulling away for a second to sit up all the way and press Michael back into the bed as they kissed. For a moment, Michael’s heart starts to beat faster, especially as the kiss heats up and Luke’s hands find their way underneath his shirt, and he wonders if this will be when they finally have sex. Luke hasn’t been completely well and they agreed for when he was better but he’s been pretty well, honestly, and Michael has felt like he’s ready for so long. He moves his hands down to Luke’s hips and down to his ass, pushing his hips up against Luke’s to try and get his point across. He’s ready now, he can do this now.

Luke pulls away, kissing at his jaw as his fingers brush over his nipples, making Michael gasp and his jeans feel tighter. “What do you want, baby?” He whispers.

“You,” Michael moans softly. The house is empty except for them and they’re making out and Luke is well, they could fuck now.

Luke chuckles softly, biting gently at Michael’s jaw. “Oh yeah?”

Michael whines softly. “Please, Luke,” he mumbles. He’s hard now and he wants this to happen, wants Luke to fuck him because he’s just so, so ready.

“Hmm?”

“Please, I’m hard and I want you.”

“I’ll give you a handjob,” Luke offers.

They’ve talked about sex before and they agreed that it wouldn’t be until later when they were both ready and when Luke isn’t sick anymore and Michael wants more, wants to feel more of Luke but he nods anyway. An orgasm from almost anything at all will be nice.

Luke kisses him quickly before they both battle with his pants until they’re on the floor and his shirt is pushed up to his neck, half-off because he can’t stand it and he just needs some relief now. Luke kisses marks into his chest while he wraps his hand around his cock and starts stroking slowly. Michael whimpers, falling heavily into the mattress as Luke moved his hand and his lips across his skin.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Luke mumbles against his skin, moving his hand slowly and running his thumb over the tip of Michael’s cock.

He whines, pushing his hips up in an attempt to get more friction.

Luke’s free hand presses his hips down, chuckling. “Be patient,” he says, moving his hand faster now.

“Don’t wanna be patient,” Michael mumbles, moaning softly. “I want to come.”

“You will, I promise I’ll let you come.”

Luke moves his hand faster, kissing at Michael’s chest and letting his lips wander over to his nipple and bite gently. Michael whines, his balls tightening while Luke mumbles about how gorgeous he is and how he can come now if he wants. It doesn’t take long after that until he does, crying out and coming over his chest while Luke strokes him through it.

Luke pulls him close after, helping him redress and get his boxers back on before he kisses his head and pulls him into his chest. “Love you loads.”

“Love you too,” Michael breathes.

 

It’s May and it’s getting cold and Luke is two months away from being in actual remission. It isn’t like he hasn’t been in remission for the past couple years, technically, but he’s still been taking chemo and it just doesn’t feel like he’s survived yet, even though he has. He’s gotten through the worst part, the needles every day and the getting sick on himself and feeling like absolute shit all the time. He’s almost done it and then, if all his blood tests and bone marrow biopsies come back fine, he’ll be cancer-free and he can say he survived leukemia and that’s maybe the most amazing thing.

It’s June and Luke is halfway through his last year of high school and he’s being drowned in university application brochures and tips. It’s all exhausting, and Luke is exhausted now as he sits in the cafeteria, flipping through a UNSW brochure and thinking that he has no clue what he wants to be when he graduates. He thinks he had some idea when he was fifteen but after he was diagnosed he got a little more focused on surviving than wondering what he wants to do.

He thinks that he might like to be a nurse or a doctor, to help kids like himself but he doesn’t have good enough grades and he only understands the most basic parts of his illness. He’d make a shitty doctor. Maybe a teacher, he thinks, skimming the brochure to find anything about a teaching program.

Someone sits down across from him, sliding into the bench and Luke looks up from the brochure, smiling at Chris, a friend of his from his classes.

“Hey, man,” Chris says with a smile. “What are you looking at?”

“University stuff,” Luke shrugs, yawning.

He makes a face. “Ew,” he says. “How’s things?”

“It’s fine. I’m tired, but I can’t remember the last time I didn’t feel like that.”

“Is it the cancer?”

Luke immediately wonders why he didn’t just leave it at ‘it’s fine’. “Yeah,” he says. Chris isn’t insensitive but he just doesn’t really get it and Luke has always avoided talking about his health with him. “I’m pretty much cured, though.”

Chris nods. “That’s awesome.”

Luke nods, fiddling with the brochure and hoping he can find something that will segue into a different conversation.

“You’re really brave,” Chris says and Luke is touched but he doesn’t want to have this conversation with him. “Your parents are too.”

He looks up from the plastic of the brochure between his fingers. He’s never gotten that before.

“You know, paying for all of it and being there. My parents would probably have like, put me up for adoption or kicked me out,” he chuckles.

Luke thinks that’s the least funny thing he’s ever heard but he chuckles a little anyway. “Yeah, thanks,” he says, starting to gather his things. “I have to get my English book. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Chris nods. “Yeah, see you.”

He stands up and walks away to his locker. It’s last block and he’s got around ten minutes left before school is over. He only stayed because he’s helping Calum prepare for a date, the most important date of his entire life, he was told frantically by his friend, and he didn’t want to walk to his house alone and Calum promised him a ride.

Luke takes his sweet time at his locker before he dawdles his way to Calum’s locker, reading a few pages of the novel they’re studying in English until the bell rings. Calum shows up after a minute, his hands shaking, his hair all out of place and he looks terrified.

“Nice,” he says, chuckling as Calum starts to open his locker.

Calum shoots him a look, grabbing his keys and his backpack. “Let’s go.”

Luke follows him, staying a step behind while Calum nearly sprints to his car. “Seriously, are you okay?” He asks, putting his backpack at his feet and sliding the book into his backpack. He didn’t even have time to put it away before Calum appeared and he’s now worried that a month away from remission he’ll die in a car accident with his friend.

He takes a deep breath as he starts the car. “Yeah,” he says. “I just really need a shower and I have to be there at four-thirty.”

“You’re not meeting her downtown are you?”

“No, we’re going to a movie.”

“Christ, Calum, she’s hardly going to see your face.”

“We’re going out to dinner, too,” he defends, peeling out of the parking lot and driving towards his house. “So she is going to see my face.”

“Are you going to steal your sister’s makeup?” Luke asks.

Calum brushes his hand over his cheek, touching two blemishes that are hardly noticeable. “No.”

“Oh my God, you so are.”

He flushes. “Luke,” he whines. “Stop teasing me.”

“But it’s really fun,” Luke grins. “You’re going to be fine, okay? You’re sweet and charming and she’ll fall for you before you’ve gotten the bill.”

Calum sighs. “But what if she doesn’t find me sweet or charming?”

Luke rolls his eyes. “Calum, she literally agreed to go out with you. She finds you sweet and charming.”

He pulls into his driveway, cutting the engine. “I hope so,” he mumbles as they both start piling out.

Luke follows him inside and lies on Calum’s bed while he showers, playing on his phone and texting Michael about how anxious Calum is. He doesn’t mind helping him get ready for a date at all but it will come with the price that Luke gets a free pass to tease him for the rest of their lives. He makes a mental note (that he’ll surely forget) to bring this up at their high school reunion and tease the fuck out of Calum about it.

That brings up a slew of thoughts about their high school reunion and who will be there and how it’ll be. Luke will, at this rate, have a degree and a job and he wonders if he’ll still be with Michael or if things between them will fall apart and he’ll meet someone new. It’s strange to think about since they’ve been together close to three years now and Luke can envision it all. He can see them getting married when it’s legalized, adopting a baby together and growing old together. He can see having a life with Michael.

“Luke,” Calum calls in a whiny tone.

“What?” He asks, clicking the screen of his phone off.

“Come help me with my hair.”

Luke stands up, padding into the bathroom where Calum was looking helpless, a blow dryer in one hand and a hair straighter in the other, his hair wet and dripping onto his shoulders. “You’re asking the bald kid to style your hair,” he mumbles, taking the blow dryer and setting the straightener down. “Awesome plan, mate.”

Calum pouts. “Every time I do my own hair it ends up all poufy and I don’t want to have an afro.”

“Don’t you have a sister?”

“She doesn’t live here.”

Luke sighs, acting all dramatic when he’s really endeared by Calum’s inability to do his own hair. He helps him blow dry it, letting him straighten down the parts he deemed too poufy before sitting on the edge of his bed while he tore apart his drawer looking for a shirt.

“Blink shirt or All Time Low shirt?” Calum asks, holding the two shirts for Luke to see.

They’re identical, both of them black, but the words are different. “Why not Green Day?”

Calum picks up his Green Day shirt, inspecting it. It had a splash of colour on it, which was probably good, since he was wearing black jeans and it was a baseball shirt instead of just a t-shirt.

“Come on, it has colour and this way you won’t have to take a sweater,” Luke says.

“Or I could take a sweater and give it to her if she gets cold,” Calum says, smiling all wide like he’s a fucking genius.

Luke beams. “That’s an awesome idea, do that.”

Calum pulls the shirt on and sits down, taking a deep breath.

“You do realize you still have like, forty-five minutes to do nothing?” Luke chuckles.

“More like a half hour,” he says. “I have to drive and stuff and I don’t know how traffic will be.”

Luke nods. “So tell me about the girl you’re going out with.”

“Her name’s Maddie,” Calum starts before he delves into a soliloquy about her. Luke nods in all the right places and responds in the appropriate ways, remembering the ways Calum sat and listened to him (and Michael, probably) talk about Michael (or Luke, probably).

Calum gives him a ride home because it’s on the way and Luke walks in, only now remembering the conversation he had with Chris earlier and something didn’t sit right about it. It wasn’t massively insensitive or anything and it wasn’t like that one girl, a seventh year, who asked very bluntly if he was going to die last year, but it had rubbed him the wrong way. He guesses that yeah, he is brave and all, but the fact that he brought up his parents too and said they were brave made his stomach churn a little.

“Hey, kiddo,” his dad says from the kitchen, preparing dinner.

Luke drops his backpack by his shoes. “Hi,” he says, wandering into the kitchen. He peers over his dad’s shoulder, which isn’t really hard since he’s significantly taller than his dad now, and finds he can’t pick a piece of meat out of what he’s cooking since it’s still pink.

“How was school?”

He shrugs, going to fridge instead and grabbing juice. “It was okay. School,” he shrugs again to emphasize his point.

“And Calum is good?”

“Yeah, nervous about his date, but he’s good.”

“Oh, he’s got a date,” his dad says. “What about you? Do you still get asked out?”

Luke sips his juice, staring deadpan at his dad. “I don’t know if you remember because of your age, but I’ve been with Michael for almost three years.”

“People could still ask you out, though.”

“They don’t,” he says, rolling his eyes. _Who would ask out the bald kid with cancer?_

“Touchy. Everything okay?”

He sighs, leaning against the counter. “Just a friend of mine said something earlier and it kinda rubbed me the wrong way.”

“What’d he say?”

“I don’t know but he was talking about how brave I am and shit-”

“You are, Luke.”

“I’m not done,” he says. “And then he said that my parents must be super brave as well, for not, like, kicking me out.”

His dad looks over at him, a frown starting in the crease between his brows.

“And, I don’t know. I’m not like, a burden or anything, am I? For being sick?”

“No, Luke, of course not,” his dad says, the same way he said there was nothing wrong with being bisexual after Olivia broke up with him all those years ago.

He nods, biting at his lip and staring down into the orange depths of his juice.

“I mean, it’s been very stressful,” his dad continues. “You’ve definitely given me more grey hairs and of course we’ve all been very brave, especially you. But you’re not a burden at all.”

Luke fights back the thought that it would’ve been easier if he’d just died, knowing that it wouldn’t and that his brothers and his parents would miss him and Michael and Calum would miss him. It would’ve been easier financially, maybe, but emotionally it would be the worst thing they’d have ever been put through.

“I’m really glad that you’re getting better, Luke,” his dad says softly.

He puts his juice down and wraps his arms around his dad. Cancer kind of negates every stereotype of the apathetic teenager who’s too cool to be affectionate with their family and while he’s noticed a distinct lack of physical contact lasting more than a few seconds between his peers and their parents, his has skyrocketed since he got sick. His illness turned him into a little kid again, needy and petulant and wanting his parents’ affections, along with any comfort that it could give.

“Me too,” he whispers. It’s kind of strange that he’s no longer able to cuddle into his dad like he could when he was shorter and that his dad is holding him around the waist and he’s holding his dad around the shoulders.

His dad kisses the side of his head as they separate, going back to push the meat around the pan. “You’re never a burden, okay? Your mum and I would do anything for you and so would your brothers. Hell, I’d probably bail you out of jail for murder.”

Luke laughs. “You wouldn’t. You were so pissed at Jack when he got that speeding ticket.”

“Okay, so maybe not murder, but we love you.”

He smiles, picking up his juice and taking another sip. “Love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	26. 56 744 171m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're halfway done now kiddos c': (also i know literally no one would notice if i didn't bring it up but leukemia treatment for boys normally takes three years and i sliced it down to two and a half for reasons and because fiction doesn't have to be real life ok that's all i'm sorry for medical inaccuracy as always) enjoy!

They’re between terms, on break, when Luke goes into proper remission, which, medically, he’s been in for the past two years but Michael has had trouble wrapping his mind around how he could be in remission but still taking chemo. His blood tests come back with good news and he’s allowed to take his last cocktail of pills meant to keep the leukemia from coming back two days before his eighteenth birthday. His brothers come down and Luke’s family celebrates while Michael plans their own celebration, with Calum and Ashton.

The day after Luke’s celebration with his family, the four boys pile into Michael’s basement with enough food to put them all into food comas. They watch some movie Ashton brings, which he still insists is a good movie even after Calum insults nearly every aspect of it while Ashton sits curled in the armchair with his philosophy textbook. His exams were this week, he explained, and he was shit at philosophy and really he just brought the book to read on the bus.

“Like, the lead actor wasn’t as hot as she made him out to be,” Calum says, munching on popcorn and speaking with his mouth full. “She kept saying like ‘oh Oliver, you’re so hot’ and he was like, so average looking. He looked kind of like your dad, Luke.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Luke pouts. Michael can feel his voice vibrating in his chest and he looks up at him, smiling a little.

“What does anything mean?” Ashton sighs, chewing on his lip as he tried to focus on philosophy.

They all laugh at that and Ashton looks up. “Stop studying, mate,” Michael says, pushing Luke’s leg down so he could reach the bowl of chips on the coffee table. He tosses it at him.

It lands on Ashton’s chest and slides down to his book and he picks it up, popping it in his mouth. “Fine. But if I get anything less than a pass, I will personally come back here and castrate you.”

“Excuse me, that is my boyfriend you’re threatening,” Luke says, petting Michael’s hair, which was newly dyed purple (and it ran onto his pillow, which was just amazing).

“And your friend is making fun of my favourite movie, but I don’t see either of you defending me,” Ashton huffed, shutting his book.

“Calum has an opinion and you have yours,” Luke says in a very falsely diplomatic way, like he was scolding small children.

Ashton pouts out his bottom lip, folding his arms and looking, for all the world, like a very small child.

“Okay, Calum, keep your opinions to yourself for now. Ashton, stop pouting,” Michael says, beaming as Calum huffs out a playfully mad “okay”.

There’s a beat of silence before Calum looks up at Michael and Luke, Michael lying between Luke’s legs and half on top of him. “You two make a good team.”

“You should have kids,” Ashton puts in.

Luke rolls his eyes, but the slight dusting of pink around his cheeks is evident. “I’m not even eighteen.”

Ashton looks at the clock. “It’s your birthday in less than half an hour, though.”

“Yeah, just go adopt a kid or something.”

They banter for another hour, singing Luke happy birthday when midnight strikes, before Ashton decides, as the oldest one there, that they should all get some sleep. Calum and Ashton settle down on the floor, cuddled up in spare blankets from Michael’s linen cupboard, while Luke and Michael stay on the couch together, distinctly aware of the risk of rolling over the edge together in the middle of the night and landing on Calum’s head. Michael turned over and they’re stomach-to-stomach, his head just under Luke’s chin and they were still awake even though Calum and Ashton had started snoring at least fifteen minutes ago.

“Happy birthday,” Michael whispers, his fingers playing with the collar of Luke’s shirt. He’s wearing a soft Good Charlotte shirt and Michael was having a very happy time burying his face in it.

“Hmm, thanks,” Luke mumbles back. He can feel the vibration from his voice against his ear, can hear the beating of his heart and everything that he says. “’S been three years since I kissed you for the first time.”

Michael looks up at him, moving his head so it was more against Luke’s shoulder. “And you haven’t gotten tired of it yet. Or me.”

“I could never get tired of you.” His fingers are playing in Michael’s hair.

“Was it your birthday wish?” Michael asks. “To kiss me on your fifteenth birthday?”

Luke smiles, all fond and slow and wonderful. “A bit, yeah. But it’s hard to look at your best friend and just say, ‘hey, come here and let me kiss you because it’s my birthday’.”

“I’d have said yes,” Michael giggles softly, leaning up to kiss him gently. They’d kissed after Michael sang with Calum and Ashton but it hadn’t been for long because Calum and Ashton were both making retching noises.

Luke smiles when they pull apart, his fingers carding through Michael’s hair. He panics for a moment that they’ll go to bed, that it’ll be the sleepover conundrum all over again and tomorrow won’t be as wonderful and lovely as this moment and Michael’s every heartbeat won’t echo how in love he is with Luke.

“What’s your wish this year?” Michael wonders out loud in a quiet tone. Calum would probably beat them for waking him up.

Luke hums for a second. “I’ve got everything I need,” he decides. “I’ve got you and I’ve got my health and soon I’ll have hair again. I don’t need anything else.”

Michael beams, kissing his cheek. “Well, okay, what about university?”

“I’m going to live with my boyfriend and we’re going to go to school, maybe not the same one but we’ll be at school at the same time and it’ll probably the best thing.”

“You still want to live with me?”

Luke nods. “Of course, why would that ever change?”

Michael shrugs. “I dunno, it’s just that we talked about it so long ago and I thought maybe you’d change your mind. Just like I never thought we’d be together this long.”

“Yeah, neither did I. But I’m glad we did because I love you a lot.”

“I love you too, dork,” Michael chuckles. “But like, you’re sure about moving out? The commute to Sydney isn’t really that long and I’d stay home too for solidarity and shit.”

“Yeah, I really want to,” Luke says softly.

Michael cuddles close, yawning a little and trying to hide it so Luke doesn’t suggest they go to sleep. This is nice, staying awake and talking like this, all soft voices and light touches.

“I’m really excited to like, have hair again.”

“Yeah?” Michael asks, reaching up and carefully touching the smooth baldness of Luke’s head. “You’re not ready to give up making every man that has to shave his head jealous?”

Luke laughs quietly. “Nah, I’m pretty ready.”

Michael nods, cuddling into his chest. “I think you’re beautiful and brave and wonderful.”

“Oh, you do?” Luke asks, a teasing edge to his voice.

“Yeah,” Michael whispers, looking at him. “You took all those needles even though you were so afraid of them and you didn’t complain as much as I thought you would.”

Luke smiles. “I complained a lot, to be fair. And my arm looks like a junkie’s from how many needles I got and I’ve got a nice scar on my chest from the line they put in there.”

Michael laughs, quickly shutting himself up so that Calum doesn’t literally kill him, and takes Luke’s arm, lifting it to inspect it. He grabs his phone, the both of them giggling, and uses it as a light to illuminate Luke’s arm. The light it casts is reddish, from the picture Michael has as his background, which is Luke in his red beanie, and it lights up the little, almost invisible, scars.

“Hold this,” Michael instructs, handing the phone to Luke to shine over his own arm.

“What are you doing?”

“Shh.”

He reaches over Luke to the little side-table, grabbing a pen off it and uncapping it. He scribbles on the back of his hand, which hurts a little, to check that it works on skin and that it works at all. It does, and he leans over Luke’s arm, connecting the little white marks together.

“What are you doing?” Luke hisses. “I can’t see.”

“Shh, babe, I’m almost done,” Michael promises, keeping his work blocked from Luke’s vision with one hand and leaning up to kiss his cheek to make him quiet.

Luke sighs and Michael tries to make the lines as straight and thin as possible, just so it’s more obvious what he’s doing, and it’s hard. The marks are all very close together and Michael curses, for perhaps the first and only time in his life, good nurses. Once he’s done, he sits up, uncovering it for Luke and he frowns a little.

“You drew lines on my arm,” he deadpans, brows furrowed together.

“Yeah,” Michael smiles. “It’s your own little constellation. You’re a planet, babe.”

He acts affronted. “Are you calling me fat?”

“No, no, I’m saying that you’re all big and wonderful and that these scars are nothing and I dunno, it started off like a good idea but it ended up dumb.”

Luke beams and giggles, pulls him close for a quick kiss. “You’re an idiot. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Michael smiles.

A pillow connects with his head as he kisses Luke and he pulls away, looking for where it came from and for a second, his tired and love-addled mind jumps to _ghosts_.

“Shut up,” Calum whispers. “Ashton will probably literally cry if you wake him up and I have soccer practice tomorrow. Go the fuck to sleep.”

“Sorry,” Michael whispers, biting at his lip to hold back a giggle as he cuddled closer to Luke. “We’ll sleep.”

“You fuckin’ better,” Calum mumbles, lying back down with a huff.

“Guess we better sleep,” Luke whispers, hardly above a breath because his lips are so close to his ear. “I love you.”

Michael presses a kiss to his chest instead. “I love you too. Sleep tight.”

They make breakfast together in the morning, which goes about as well as it could with four teenage boys packed into Michael’s kitchen trying to make pancakes and eggs and bacon. Luke and Michael are in charge of eggs, even though Michael spends half his time helping Ashton find where the flour and baking powder and sugar is, since Ashton is making pancakes. And Calum has the easy job of bacon, which allowed him to lean against the counter and make fun of the rest of them as Luke struggled to get eggshell out of one of the eggs and Ashton broke a pancake in half trying to flip it in some fancy way.

Over breakfast, they all give Luke gifts for his birthday and Ashton, of course, gives him a gag gift of a bottle of lube, which makes Luke turn red, but he gives Luke a couple of CD’s he has, one of them a signed All Time Low album that he admits he bought off a friend. Calum gives him money and Michael replaces his old, outdated iPod that was starting to die with a nicer one and a nice pair of headphones that promise durability.

Of course, Luke’s family one-ups them all when Luke goes home and receives a car from his parents. They admit it’s a used car, cheap, and they all pitched in for it, but Luke still almost cries. From then on, Michael and Luke no longer walk to school together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	27. 56 052 971m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _in the moonlight you looked just like an angel in disguise_   
>  _my whole life seemed like a postcard_   
>  _you were mine for a night_

Luke’s hair starts growing back around the time their semiformal gets announced. It’s hardly even noticeable unless Michael runs his hand over his scalp, which he does a lot, but it’s there and Luke is all smiles. They plan to go to semiformal together again this year, since year elevens are allowed as well and they went last year but Luke got tired and didn’t feel very well and they had to leave early. Michael saves up the twenty dollars and stands in a too-long queue of year elevens excitedly talking about what they’ll wear and how they’ll do their hair for a ticket with Luke and Calum beside him, the three of them communicating in subtle sighs and eye rolls.

It all turns out to be a waste of time, though. The day before semiformal, Michael wakes up to a stuffy nose and a cough and it only gets worse throughout the day. By lunch, he’s a little feverish and he isn’t hungry for his lunch at all and he goes home to nap during third block so he might feel better tomorrow. His mum keeps him home the next day, though, telling him that he can go to semiformal only if he feels well enough and if he isn’t running a fever by three. Michael swallows as many cold meds as is medically safe and curls up in bed, sleeping in until two and waking up to blowing his nose a good fourteen times.

He feels like shit and it sucks. His ticket is across from him, on his desk next to the chords to a song he’s been teaching Luke, and it almost feels like it’s mocking him, laughing that he can’t go to semiformal this year. It isn’t like he’ll miss anything much more than a bunch of white kids dancing badly to pop music but it’s that Luke is well this year and he won’t get tired after two songs and they can dance together all night, probably. He still has dry grad for that, which will happen in a couple of months after they get their exam results and everything.

Luke comes over after school, when they’ve been given two hours to get changed and ready for semiformal before they have to show up at school. Michael is currently dozing but he’s woken when Luke knocks on his door before he comes in, still in his uniform.

“Babe,” he pouts, picking his way through the maze of tissues that missed the bin and sitting next to him, leaning down to kiss his head. “You feel okay?”

“I’m going to die,” Michael says, his voice wrecked from congestion and his cough.

“You’ll be fine,” Luke assures him. “Want some tea?”

Michael nods and dozes again for another few minutes while Luke makes him tea and he wakes up enough when he brings it in, sitting up and feeling the tightness of a congestion headache.

“It’s got two sugars and some milk in it,” Luke says, sitting next to him. “Just how you like it.”

“You love me,” Michael says with a small grin. “Thank you.”

Luke smiles and kisses his cheek. “I do love you, you’re welcome.”

Michael leans into him, resting his head on his chest and holding his mug of tea between his hands. It’s a little too hot but it doesn’t feel like Luke poured the water in when it was proper boiling.

“You should stay home, babe,” Luke says softly.

Michael whines a little, shaking his head.

“Yes,” Luke insists, sounding very parental. “You’ll be worse than me last year and you’ll just get everyone else sick if you go. I’ll come by when it’s over.”

Michael pouts at him but pulls away and sets his tea down to cough, facing away from Luke and burying his mouth into his elbow.

Luke lays his hand on his back, rubbing gentle circles. “Babe, seriously. You’ll dance for a minute and then hack up a lung.”

“But I want to go,” Michael says, his voice rougher after coughing. “I spent money on the ticket.”

“You can get it refunded,” Luke promises, kissing his cheek, even though he’ll get sick. Michael has a moment of reflexive anxiety that Luke _will get sick_ but is calmed with a quick breath and a reminder that Luke getting a cold is nothing now. It’s the same as Michael getting a cold.

“Still.”

“I’ll come visit you when it’s over, okay? We can, I dunno, play some sappy song off your phone and dance together in your yard.”

Michael sniffles, grabbing a tissue to staunch the flow of snot out of his nose. “Fine.”

Luke kisses his cheek. “I have to go and get ready, then. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Luke goes to his house and texts Michael a picture of his outfit, which looks really nice and makes him look like he’s eighteen and all professional. Michael wants to be there, wishes that he could muster up the energy to get out of bed and shower without passing out and go out and dance but he can’t. His immune system had to fuck up today of all days, the one day he wanted to do something fun and happy.

Michael finishes his tea, which he couldn’t taste from congestion, and then he works on some homework for a little while. He eats dinner with his mum and watches TV with her afterwards, hardly able to focus on it and finding himself spacing out every few minutes and cluing back in just when they were doing something exciting and he couldn’t think of their motive for it. Michael tries his hardest to stay awake after that, reading all curled up under his blankets and shivering from his fever, but he can’t and he falls asleep waiting for Luke to text that he was outside.

He wakes up to a gentle knock on his window that shocks him awake, and he sees that it’s just Luke, his hair resembling the buzz-cut he got when they were eleven that he covered with hats until it looked better. His tie is looser now and the first button of his shirt is popped and the moonlight is hitting him just right and Michael wonders for a delirious moment if he’s died and Luke is an angel.

Luke holds up his phone and shakes it a little, pointing into the window and Michael gets the hint. He has an unread text.

_Come outside._

Michael fights his way out of his three-blanket cocoon and finds a hoodie because it’s nighttime and it’s nearly August, it’s going to be fucking freezing out. He shoves his feet into a pair of wool socks and manages his way out of the window, wiping his nose on his sleeve a few times. The only times his nose wasn’t stuffed or dripping were when he was asleep or in the shower and currently, both were a little hard.

“You look like an angel,” Michael admits, his voice sounding a little unfamiliar to even himself.

Luke beams. “You look cute.”

“Do not,” he mumbles, sniffling. “I look like a heroin addict, probably.”

“You’re the cutest,” he says, pulling his phone out. “What do you want to dance to?”

“Hmm, anything sappy.”

“Oh, so can I play Celine Dion?”

Michael groans. “Just something sappy, Luke, c’mon, I’m cold.”

Luke turns on a song, turning his volume up all the way up so they can hear the first few notes of a piano. Michael lets Luke grab his hip and take his hand, resting his free hand on Luke’s shoulder. It’s the most cliché thing ever, dancing together in Michael’s front yard while they can see their breath and moving closer. They dance to some sappy song about love and Michael is sleepy and sick and he thinks that the song makes complete sense and songs like it have for three years now and he’s just so, _so_ in love with Luke and he’s so glad he’s alive.

He shuts his eyes and they’re really just stepping in slow circles now, not even on the beat, but it’s still sort of dancing. His chin is resting on Luke’s shoulder and Luke is whispering the words into his ears, singing as quietly as he can but Michael can hear it over the music and the sound of their feet landing on the ground. Luke smells like his shampoo and sweat from dancing and Michael has never felt more in love, his chest tight with it.

The song ends and Luke’s phone is still on shuffle because it starts blasting a loud Panic! At the Disco song and they pull apart, Luke fussing with his phone until the song turns off and beaming at Michael as he slid his phone back into his pocket.

“We’re so bad at dancing,” he chuckles, still holding him around the waist with one arm.

Michael nods since he doesn’t know what to say other than ‘I love you’.

“Hey, though,” Luke says, squeezing his hip gently. “You okay?”

He wraps his arms around him and brings him closer. “Just love you a lot. Sad I didn’t get to see you dance like every other white boy there.”

“Calum has a video of me absolutely smashing it to ‘Anaconda’. And I love you too.”

Michael laughs a little, which triggers another coughing fit. The cold air isn’t helping either. “I can’t wait to see that.”

Luke smiles. “You should get back in bed,” he says softly.

“Want you to stay,” he mumbles, his grip on Luke tightening a little.

“I’ll stay until you fall asleep,” Luke says softly. “But I have to shower and get to bed. They’re idiots for having this on a Thursday night.”

They climb through the window and curl up together, Michael curled up in the blankets and Luke just outside them.

“Are we doing anything for our three years?” Luke asks. “It’s next Friday.”

Michael hums. “Skip school. Beach.”

Luke chuckles softly. “Sounds perfect.”

Michael yawns and coughs, cuddling up into the blankets a little more.

“I also want to get drunk at some point,” Luke says.

“Why?” Michael asks.

“Because you and Calum have done it a lot and I couldn’t without it interfering with chemo so I want to do it now. Take me to a party sometime.”

Michael chuckles. “Anything else you want?” He asks, wondering how Luke is so lively at nearly midnight when he woke up at seven this morning and spent the night dancing.

“Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow evening,” Luke promises, kissing his head.

Michael curls closer to him and falls asleep, only waking up a little bit when Luke climbs back out the window to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	28. 55 448 171m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :( it's so short and i'm kind of kicking past me for doing this to you all? i'm not so sure what i was thinking but also this scene works really well on its own and to compensate for the lack of content this monday i'll probs do a third update on saturday so watch out for that!! otherwise, enjoy!

For Luke’s first party, Michael and Calum take him to a local gathering just a few blocks away so they don’t have to drive. They try to babysit Luke as much as they can while enjoying themselves, which proves to be hard and Michael loses him in the crowd a few times. Luke is hilarious when he’s drunk, as it turns out, and any shyness he has completely disappears. Michael finds him dancing like a total dork, surrounded by a group of really pretty girls that make Michael nervous to be around and Michael is exclusively into boys and is generally not as shy as Luke.

They stumble home together, the three of them, and Calum stays over at Michael’s while Luke goes home. He apparently gets caught by Ben, who’s currently on break, and it doesn’t lead to anything bad except some teasing. Calum and Michael, who are used to hangovers, visit Luke after taking a few painkillers and find him still wrapped up in bed, groaning when they walk in and ask him how he feels. Luke spends the rest of the day being grumpy and exhausted and achy and Michael does as much as he can to help, which ends up being fetching him water and ginger ale alternatingly and petting his hair.

Luke’s hangover lingers for a few days with general anxiety but he’s fully recovered by midweek and thriving again by Friday. He packs couple of duvets in the trunk of his car along with something else a little more special, he promises Michael. He panics for a solid minute that Luke has done something incredibly stupid and bought a ring or something, which is a stupid thing to fear, but Michael is still only seventeen and even though he loves Luke more than anything else, he’s too young to get married or be engaged.

They skip their last two blocks, which isn’t detrimental for Michael since he has guitar and a spare block, but Luke misses math and biology but he asks Calum to copy the notes for him so Michael is pretty sure it’ll all be okay. They pile into Luke’s car and blare the radio since they aren’t driving with their parents and they sing along at the tops of their voices to a Katy Perry song.

When they get to the beach, it’s pouring with rain and their plan of huddling together under one of the duvets is ruined because neither of them wants to sit out in the rain. Michael is disappointed for a few minutes because he knows how much Luke likes the ocean and it was a better idea than going out to some fancy restaurant, since that really wasn’t the sort of thing they were into. Luke reminds him that his car is a hatchback, though, and he lays down the back seats and pops the trunk.

Michael and Luke curl up under the duvets as close to the actual beach as they can get with the trunk opened so the rain was that much closer and they could hear the crashing of the waves. They lie on their stomachs, one blanket beneath them and another one overtop of them and they aren’t really cuddling but their arms are touching and it feels nice.

“Okay, so I went out and bought something for today,” Luke says after they’ve been sat in silence for a few minutes. To avoid annoying ads and pauses in music, they’ve set up Michael’s phone to the stereo and it’s quietly playing Fall Out Boy.

Michael’s heart flutters with nerves for a moment. “Yeah?” He asks, doing his best to keep confident about it and like he isn’t panicking that it’s a ring.

Luke reaches into one of the duvets they aren’t using and pulls out a bottle of wine. “I haven’t had wine since like, Christmas dinner one year and I remember hating it, but hey,” he grins. “It’s a good way to celebrate, isn’t it?”

Michael laughs. “Did you even bring cups?”

“That would ruin the vintage vibe,” Luke teases. He sits up and finds his coat, locating a corkscrew in his pocket and carefully getting into the cork.

“Do you want a hand with that?” Michael asks. “I’ve opened the wine for my grams probably a thousand times.”

“Yeah, it’s always been Ben or dad at home,” Luke chuckles. “It’s not like I’m weak or anything, I can do it.”

Michael raises his eyebrows skeptically and watches him twist the corkscrew all the way in. Holding the bottle between his knees, he starts to tug when it’s in as far as it can go. “Here, let me,” Michael offers, reaching for it.

Luke gives him an award-winning pout and gives a hard tug, the cork coming out and he beams at him. “See? I did it.”

Michael rolls his eyes through his fond grin. “Yeah, but you looked like you might pass out from exertion.”

Luke shoves him playfully and hands him the corkscrew, still buried in the cork.

“Oh, so you can uncork wine but you can’t get the corkscrew off?” Michael teases.

“No, you’re supposed to smell it,” Luke says. “Or something. I dunno. I always see my parents do this and I don’t know why they do it but my dad always gives my mum the cork and she smells it and it’s like, tradition, I dunno. Just do it.”

Michael chuckles, taking the corkscrew and sniffing the cork. “It just smells like wine,” he says, smiling widely.

Luke leans down to kiss him quickly. “You get the first sip,” he says, handing him the bottle.

Michael sits up and takes a sip, wincing a little. It’s strong and it’s sour and he doesn’t really like wine, honestly, but it’s a good celebration drink. “It’s nice,” he says, handing it to him.

“You hate it,” Luke chuckles as he takes it back and takes a sip.

“Hate is a strong word,” Michael says in the same tone of voice his mother might.

They spend the next little while sipping wine together in the trunk of Luke’s car, wrapped up in blankets and talking about universities they want to go to and what they want to be when they’re older. They’re both undecided but they’re pretty sure that’s okay, even though it’s a little scary and they both don’t know what they want to do after university.

After the rain has stopped and they’ve had a run in the sand and by the water’s edge, playing chicken with the ocean that didn’t know that it was playing, but did know, as Luke promised him as they kissed and the water lapped at their feet, that they are in love. They finish a quarter of the wine and put it away for later drinking before they go to some restaurant and eat dinner together, their ankles knotted together underneath the table.

Michael realizes during those moments when he’s just sort of caught watching Luke eat that he was so wrong ever doubting that they would last this long. He was so wrong about it because three years have passed since they became boyfriends and that isn’t something that happens to everyone. They’re so desperately in love and they’re still fucking falling, holding on tight to each other and they aren’t straying from it or running away or hitting the bottom. They’re never-ending, they’re infinite and so is their love story.

They go home shortly after that and make out and rut against each other until they come, the taste of wine still on their tongues as an afterthought to the taste of what they had for dinner and it makes Michael smile a little. Birthday cake matured into wine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	29. 54 632 828m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slight warnings for chats about death and some stuff that is improbable probably but hey i needed to write a story. also, there's some stuff here borrowed from a tumblr post that i would really love to credit but i lost the link when xkit crashed like, last month or in october so i'm very sorry. anyway enjoy!!! and remember i'll be updating on saturday as well to make up for monday's superduper short chapter

Michael misses school on Monday morning for a dental checkup and Luke misses him through English but he very attentively takes notes for him to copy later during his spare. Michael texts him during the last half of class, a text punctuated by frowning emojis, some of which had tear drops, telling him that he was getting his wisdom teeth taken out in a couple weeks. Luke is sympathetic as everything, but he’s one of those people whose wisdom teeth will grow in straight and wonderfully without any worries and he’ll get to keep them.

Since they’re all growing up, he’s starting to hear more and more horror stories of people getting their wisdom teeth removed. A girl in Luke’s psychology class spent a week at home because she was in literally too much pain to get out of bed, and that pain was all oral. Luke can’t imagine that at all.

The day the procedure gets scheduled for the same day that Karen has some meeting that goes until like, seven, and she asks Luke if he’d drive Michael to and from it. Luke agrees, since he has nothing better to do, and he drives Michael to the appointment, giving him a kiss before he goes in for it. Luke spends the hour and a half it takes until one of the assistants comes out to tell him he can see Michael if he wants, warning him he’s still very high and should lie down for a couple more minutes.

Luke pockets his phone and follows the assistant to where they have Michael. He’s lying down with his head propped up with a big pillow and a Lego bandage over where they had his IV. Luke sits down on the rolling chair and rolls over to him, touching his shoulder gently.

“Mikey,” he says softly, hoping to not startle him. He remembers after one of his many tests that required anaesthesia that the first nurse to check up on him made him scream because he hadn’t been expecting it. He knows this will definitely be funny though, so he takes out his phone to record Michael mumbling and coming out of anaesthesia.

He mumbles something incoherent and Luke can’t help but laugh, keeping his camera recording for a few minutes while Michael wakes up slowly.

“I love you,” Michael mumbles between a sentence of gibberish.

“What’s that, love?” Luke asks, smiling.

Michael opens his eyes and looks over at Luke. “Holy shit.”

“You okay?”

“You’re – so pretty,” Michael says, his speech slowed down and slurred from the drugs. “But you can’t – you can’t tell my boyfriend.”

Luke laughs, struggling to keep his phone pointed at Michael. “Babe, I _am_ your boyfriend.”

Michael gasps softly. “Oh my God, what? How – how did I get you to date me?”

Luke laughs harder and leans down to kiss his forehead. “Witchcraft, probably.”

Michael hums and blinks a couple of times. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Thanks,” Luke smiles, wanting more than anything to lean down and kiss him but he’s pretty sure he can’t feel his lips. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

Michael mumbles something and Luke stops filming as his phone tells him he only has fourteen percent battery left and waits until the nurse comes in to help Michael up. Luke drives him home and helps him into bed, making him a few bowls of Jell-O before he leaves.

The next day, when Michael isn’t on any wild anaesthetics, Luke plays the video for him and Michael groans and goes about as red as he’s ever gone. He whispers to Luke after the video is done that it’s true, though, and he still doesn’t know how he landed someone like him and that means it’s Luke’s turn to blush. (Secretly he isn’t sure how Michael ever fell for him when he was a shitty fifteen year old kid and he isn’t sure how they ever got to the point they’re at now.)

When September hits, everything starts happening very quickly. Their teachers start shoving information down their throats and telling them about the looming calamity of exams and it all sounds very much like “if you fail these exams the rest of your life is going to be spent in a fast food restaurant making hamburgers for your successful peers”. University application deadlines approach quickly and Luke forgets everything he’s ever learned about writing an essay and all he can think is _how can I make myself look good when I can’t even remember my hobbies?_

Calum talked about soccer in his and apparently Ashton talked about some of the acting he did in theatre but Luke has nothing like that. He could mention Amelia, his tutor who he’s pretty sure is doing her Ph.D. now and how he’s been in the presence of someone as intelligent as that, but there’s nothing else besides that. The only thing he’s done outside of school is Have Cancer and he doesn’t want to play the pity card. He just doesn’t see why a university would accept him at all with his mediocre grades and zero extracurricular activities to account for.

That’s why Luke nearly cries when he comes home to a letter from the University of Sydney that isn’t a rejection but an acceptance. He finally tells his parents about his plans to move out with Michael as well, which ends up being incredible awkward because his parents are both having pre-emptive empty-nest syndrome, made worse by the fact that Luke was sick and everyone is worried about him having a recurrence.

After his mum has guilt-tripped him and tried to make it seem like the drive from their house to the university isn’t really _that_ far, Luke goes over to Michael’s and knocks on his window. Michael helps him in and lies back down, resting his arms above his head and Luke lies down on his stomach, pushing his face into his chest. One of Michael’s hands rests on his backs and traces along his spine, calming him immediately.

“You okay?” Michael asks softly.

“I got accepted to the University of Sydney,” Luke beams into his shoulder, feeling Michael’s hand still.

“Oh my God, Luke, that’s amazing!”

He looks up and smiles at him, letting Michael give him a congratulatory kiss. “What about you?” He asks when they pull apart, his fingers playing around Michael’s new lilac hair. “Have you been accepted anywhere yet?”

Michael bites his lip to hold back a smile. “University of Sydney,” he admits.

Luke pounces on him and kisses him, which is difficult because they’re both laughing and grinning like huge idiots. “You’re kidding,” he says once they’ve pulled apart, a little breathless from laughing and just being so, _so_ happy.

“No, I’m not,” Michael says, his voice still high from how hard he’s laughing. “The letter is still in the kitchen for mum to find when she gets home.”

“Michael, this is – this is amazing!” Luke laughs.

“I know, we’re going to the same university and we’re going to live together and…” he trails off, his voice getting softer with every word and he works his fingers into Luke’s hair.

“And it’s going to be great,” Luke supplies quietly, leaning down to kiss him gently.

Michael smiles. “Yeah. You’re sure you’re okay, though?”

Luke nods, burying his face in Michael’s shoulder and kissing at the fabric-covered skin there. “Mhm. Mum’s just worried about me.”

“Why’s that?” Michael asks, his fingers carding through Luke’s hair. He’s missed this feeling so much.

“Well, all her kids will be moved out and I know that’s hard and stuff but she’s making it hard for me to want to move out but that university is like, an hour away.”

Michael nods and presses a kiss to his head. “Yeah, that does suck. I know mum’s going to cry when I move out because she’ll be all alone, but just promise to Skype and call every day and crap like that.”

“That’s a good idea, yeah. And she’s also worried that like, she won’t be around to monitor me and see if I have a recurrence and freak out every single time I feel dizzy from a plugged nose or something.”

“It’s just scary, babe. We’re all scared it’ll come back.”

Luke sighs quietly. “I know, but you’re not the one it would come back to.”

Michael is silent and Luke isn’t sure if that’s good or bad but he keeps going.

“Like, I know you guys are scared but you didn’t have to go through all of that, like, all those needles and getting drugs that are making you better but all you feel is worse and you kind of wish they’d just let you die from lack of functioning blood cells.”

“Luke,” Michael says softly, brushing gently at his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “That wasn’t fair.”

“It’s okay. I just – don’t want you to die. Ever.”

Luke nods, shutting his eyes and burying his face in Michael’s shoulder. It’s easier if he doesn’t have to see his face when he talks about this sort of stuff and it’s _good_ that he’s talking about it and all because it’s been sitting heavily in his chest ever since he got taken off maintenance therapy and he hasn’t been able to _actually_ talk about it with anyone. “I just really don’t want to get sick again.”

“You won’t, babe,” Michael murmurs. “You’re going to be just fine and you’ll be one of those inspirational speakers or some shit one day.”

Luke can feel the giggle he’s supressing against his forehead and he snorts. “Nah, not my thing. But, like, I just really don’t want to go through that again and I wish I wasn’t worried about it happening at all in the first place.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry, this is, like, it’s hard for you to, like, reply, I guess. I’m sorry. Thanks for listening.”

Michael pulls his chin up gently with his finger and presses a kiss to his lips, gently. “Of course. I might never really know what to say but you can always talk to me. You know that, yeah?”

Luke nods, forcing a smile onto his lips. “Yeah.”

“Now stop being all sad and worried. We’re going to USyd together and it’s all going to work out.”

“Yeah,” Luke mumbles, his smile sticking a little and touching his eyes the longer he thought about it. “Where’s Calum going?”

“Dunno but I know he’s definitely doing sports.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “If that kid isn’t on the national team by the time he’s twenty, I’ll have to have a very strong word with the officials.”

“Basically everyone that knows him will.”

“Hmm, true. When’s the next game?”

“I think it’s tomorrow night. Do you want to go?”

“Yeah, we probably should,” he yawns. “But for now I’m gunna nap.”

“Have a nice nap, then.”

Luke nods and uses Michael’s chest as a pillow, listening to his heartbeat as a lullaby and thinking that his being alive wasn’t based on his heart pumping (healthy) blood and his lungs expanding and contracting countless times in his entire life but it was more based upon the fact he could feel and that he could feel so strongly about the boy he was using as a pillow. That’s what it’s about, he thinks, peering up at him through his eyelashes before he shuts his eyes and tumbles off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	30. 46 743 596m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so first off just a head's up that i'm (for the most part) done with this semester so updates may be a little later than they usually are but it's really just a difference of an hour or two! anyway, this is one of my favourite chapters (i say that all the time i just love this fic so much) so enjoy!!!

Michael’s mum, while very tolerant and accepting of the fact her son enjoyed dyeing his hair bright and unnatural colours, wanted him to look professional on graduation and requested that he dye his hair back to its normal colour, or very close to. Michael refused, point blank, and Luke could almost hear the argument from across the street, the insistence that it was his hair and he could do what he pleased with it and if he wanted to have bright purple hair when he graduated, he should have bright fucking purple hair when he graduated. Eventually, though, they settled on him dyeing his hair black and leaving a streak of purple.

October starts in a whirlwind of tests and deadlines and people buzzing about acceptance letters and moaning about rejections and everything seems to be happening at once. Luke is forced to stay up late into the night, trying to study with the help of Ashton on Skype, so he has a chance of passing his maths final and spending too many warm afternoons cooped up in his own or Michael’s or Calum’s houses, asking each other questions about history and geography. He watches Calum have a slight breakdown about he’s forgotten the correct conjugation of some French verb and groaning about why he took French at all.

November slows things down. They have grad and it goes until dawn and Luke and Michael fall asleep together on his bed, a tangle of drowsy limbs and stolen fatigued kisses that didn’t quite land on each other’s lips. And graduation looms closer, a date on the calendar a week before Michael’s birthday that Luke has had to memorize to tell his parents at least a dozen times, and his brothers and mention in passing to his grandparents and aunts and uncles.

The actual ceremony doesn’t start until five on a Sunday, so Luke gets an early dinner with his and Michael’s family at some restaurant he’s never been to before. He and Michael bump knees and squeeze each other’s thighs all throughout dinner, subtle reminders of their pride in one another since they won’t be sitting together during graduation. Alas, the school put them in alphabetical order according to their last name and Luke was right next to Calum while Michael was squished up with Olivia.

Luke feels a little ridiculous in the cap and gown, which he knew he would, and his brothers tease him about it, even though they went through it and Ben graduated from university in September (which made their mum cry). The ceremony is tedious and Luke and Calum must play Chopsticks at least three dozen times before they’re lining up beside the stage to receive their diplomas and shake hands with the principal and get a million photos taken by their parents. Luke also has a winking contest with Michael, seeing who can wink at the other more suggestively before they break out in giggles, which Michael wins.

It feels like it’s been a million years when the ceremony finally lets out and they’re let out of the stuffy auditorium to the halls outside. Luke is posed for at least ten photos – on his own, with Michael, with Jack and Ben, with his parents, holding his diploma and the list rattles on – when he spots a familiar person walking over to them.

“Ashton!” He calls, thankful for the respite from his parents.

Ashton walks over, looking infinitely cooler than Luke could ever hope to in a leather jacket, and beams. “Hey, man, congrats,” he says, wrapping Luke up in a hug.

“Thank you,” Luke grins as he pulls away and Ashton says hi to Luke’s family, all familiar from their time in close quarters at the hospital. That all seems like forever ago but maybe it was just because the ceremony took so damn long. “Have you been waiting here for like, four hours?”

“Nah, of course not,” Ashton chuckles. “Honestly, you told me it was tonight and I guessed it’d end about eight.”

Luke checks his watch; it reads eight-thirty. “Sorry we were so late, then.”

He shrugs, chuckling. “No worries. You guys want to have a less dull celebration? You and Michael and Calum?”

“That sounds good, but I don’t know,” he glances over at his parents. “They might have something planned.”

“No, love, you go and have fun,” his mum assures him, giving him a big smile and a hug. “Just stay safe and tell me where you’re sleeping tonight. I love you.”

Michael and Calum talk to their families about it and before long, they’re piled into Ashton’s mum’s minivan, Luke sitting up front. Ashton explains on their way to his house that his mum was out for the night and his little siblings were both having sleepovers at his gentle request, so he had the house to himself. He also explains that they were going to get drunk and play ‘never have I ever’ and that he’d originally planned it all to happen at the beach but he was worried about public intoxication and drink driving and whatnot.

They pile downstairs, each of them kicking away the reminders that children live in the house and sit down while Ashton gets the drinks. They sit in a circle and hold their little cups filled to the top with booze, glancing at each other.

“I’ll start,” Calum says after a few seconds of them all spinning their cups. “Never have I ever had a dog.”

Luke takes a drink and it’s stronger than the drinks he’s had before, making him wince. He watches Michael and Ashton set their cups down after drinking as well and laughs. “You’re alone on that one, Calum.”

“When did you have a dog?” Calum asks him, affronted. “You just have that stupid cat, Pancake or whatever.”

“It was before I moved here,” Luke explains, chuckling. “Her name was Ginger and she was sweet but she was old when I was born.”

“Dammit,” Calum sighs.

“Moving on,” Ashton laughs. “Never have I ever smoked.”

Michael is the only one who drinks to that and he tries to do it as discreetly as possible.

An awkward silence ensues before Luke steps in, trying to ignore the annoyed wriggle under his skin. “Never have I ever had surgery.”

Calum and Ashton drink and high-five. “What was yours?” Calum asks when he’s swallowed.

“Osteosarcoma, mate, it had to come out. What about you?”

“I had my appendix out when I was seven.”

They play, getting progressively more drunk as the game goes on and it’s Michael’s turn when he giggles and says. “Never have I ever lost my virginity.”

Calum and Ashton drink and then look at the two of them, confused looks on their faces. “You two have been together for three years and you’re telling me you’ve never had sex,” Ashton says.

“Well, it kind of depends on how you define sex,” Luke says, giggling and leaning against Michael. The look on their faces, honestly, is the best thing he’s ever seen.

“Okay, we define it as putting your dick in someone’s lower half,” Calum deadpans.

Michael and Luke burst out laughing. “Nope, never done that,” Michael chokes out, laughing.

“Their faces,” Luke manages, his stomach hurting from how hard he’s laughing, his forehead against Michael’s shoulder.

“Okay, moving on from you douchebags lying to us!” Calum announces. “Never have I ever kissed a guy.”

Through his laughter, Luke manages to take a sip of his drink, watching as Michael and Ashton do too. Liquor nearly comes out his nose and he giggles.

“This is a joke,” Calum says, reaching behind himself and grabbing the vodka to pour more into his cup. “I cannot be the only one who hasn’t kissed a guy.”

“Sorry, bro, I’m pansexual,” Ashton says, chuckling. “But we could change that if you wanted.”

Calum looks at him for a minute, considering the proposition. “You know what,” he says, as more of a statement than the intended question. “Sure. Fuck it.”

“Don’t worry, it’s pretty much just like kissing a girl,” Ashton assures him as he scoots closer.

Calum just nods, his eyes flicking down to Ashton’s lips as they get closer and Luke is watching with Michael, the two of them keeping their giggles muffled behind their hands and strategically placed coughs. They kiss briefly, Ashton leading it the best he can even though it’s really just a quick press of the lips, before pulling away. Calum’s face is flushed red and Ashton takes a sip of his drink, effectively hiding his face while Calum glowers at Michael and Luke.

“Can you two stop giggling like that?” He huffs.

It makes Luke and Michael laugh hard enough that their game ends after the next round. They drink a little more and just hang out, drunk and happy and done with high school, and they all stay at Ashton’s for the night. They paw through the linen cupboard in search of spare blankets and pillows, ending up spilling nearly the entire contents all over the floor in the hallway before they sort of manage to put it all back together and set up little sleeping areas in the living room. Ashton initially claims the couch but the minute Calum pouts he gives it up to him, all while Michael and Luke exchange knowing glances and set up their own makeshift bed on the carpet.

“Think they’ll end up dating?” Michael whispers, after Calum has started snoring and Ashton has stop shifting.

“Calum’s straight, though,” Luke slurs, out of tiredness and drunkenness.

“Hmm, yeah, but he liked that kiss.”

“Dunno,” Luke mumbles. “Sleep.”

“You’re such a lightweight.”

“Shh, sleep,” he drawls, shutting his eyes and petting Michael’s hair until he fell asleep.

 

Everything is pretty peaceful for a little while, no school and no worrying about what they’ll do for post-secondary. Their only real worry is their apartment and it requires many trips down to different buildings to see which ones are good or not and Luke refuses one apartment, which has cheap rent, is in a good place and is relatively big for their budget, simply because the shower was too low and he’d have to squat to actually use it. They find a good apartment, though, with an actual bedroom and a tall enough shower for Luke’s tastes, not that far from school and shortly after Christmas, Luke’s room becomes a mess of boxes for the second time.

It reminds him of before he moved, before he met Michael and Calum and way before he met Ashton. It reminds him of when he cried and begged his parents not to move because he didn’t want to be that new kid with no friends showing up on the first day of school, when he was worried sick to be a new kid. It reminds him of seeing Michael for the first time, getting out of the car and seeing that kid across the street who was just sort of staring and looked his age and immediately feeling self-conscious, waving to dispel that feeling.

He doesn’t have all that much to pack since his parents are keeping his room here like they’ve done with Ben and Jack’s rooms, but the boxes that he got are all too small and he can only fit about half of what he needs to fit into one box. He’s got clothes and CD’s and books and toiletries and everything else he may at some point need stuffed into a collection of boxes. All the posters are off his wall and it looks naked and it’s kind of scary to think that he has to learn how to actually cook for himself and take care of himself; it’s also kind of nice because he knows he’ll be with Michael and he won’t have his mum hovering over him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they're all grown up now remember when they were just ten years old ;n; please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	31. 41 484 308m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter probably makes it about completely halfway through the fic unless my beta sends the rest of part two and the edits end up making the fic 160k... anyway, this is the Real halfway point for this fic so, we're halfway to the end, which is both terrifying and exciting. some warnings here for smut~

Shortly after New Year’s, a while before school is set to begin, Luke and Michael start packing his car early, shoving boxes into the back and putting the backseat down. As Luke suspected, his mum cries and hugs him and he promises over and over again to call her every night while Michael does the same with his mum.

It takes forever, but they’re eventually in the car and on the highway to their apartment and it’s fucking terrifying but they’re doing it together.

They get all the boxes up to their apartment, on the third of four floors in the least number of trips possible, and Ben helps them with actual furniture, which he’d given to them since he was moving with his girlfriend and they were buying all-new furniture and since Luke didn’t want to ask his parents to spend any more money on him. Luke and Michael both got jobs, Michael as a waiter and Luke as a cashier, but they couldn’t start at them until next week and they were, effectively, starting from scratch.

It’s seven by the time they’ve cleaned up the pizza they ordered for dinner, lacking groceries and the things necessary to cook but Michael received a good amount of money for his birthday from both parents, enough to keep them afloat until they got paid and to get them a few things they needed that they hadn’t thought about. They fall onto the couch after they’ve cleared up, Michael’s head on Luke’s shoulder, and the apartment still smells new and it reminds him that he’s somewhere that isn’t home to him yet, but it will be.

“We did it,” Michael drones in perhaps the least enthusiastic cheer ever given in human history.

Luke hums, nodding. “We’re like, actual adults.”

“Nope,” Michael mumbles. “I’m still a child, sorry.”

“Yeah, you are,” Luke teases.

Michael starts kissing at his neck in earnest and Luke shuts his eyes, still chuckling softly at his own teasing and now at the feeling of it. Michael kisses up to his lips and Luke kisses back fiercely, pushing him down into the cushions of the couch as their tongues started to slide together. He can feel the tenseness in his muscles, the spots that will inevitably be sore tomorrow from carrying furniture from Ben’s car to the elevator and from the elevator to their flat. There are perhaps better times to be making out, but they’ve just moved into a new flat and out of their parents’ houses and Luke was worried he’d never even make it to graduation.

Luke’s hand slides under Michael’s shirt, going to squeeze Michael’s hip and eventually get his shirt off of him but he flinches and Luke pulls away, immediately worried he did something wrong.

“Your hands are cold,” Michael mumbles, tangling his fingers in Luke’s hair to pull him down again and attaching their lips.

Luke chuckles, keeping his hands against Michael’s stomach, which feels somehow not right against his fingers. Michael grew a good four inches over the past year, eliminating the baby fat on his stomach and thinning out his thighs and it was new but he was still gorgeous. He breathes in through his nose and moves his hands up higher even though Michael’s skin still felt warm against his and he worries it’s uncomfortable for him. He doesn’t move away again, though, so Luke takes it as a good sign and moves his hands up towards his chest.

Michael pulls away for a breath, shifting so his legs were bracketing Luke and their crotches are flush, which is sort of a problem because he’s half hard. The thought _what if this is the time_ pops into his head not for the first time and his breath hitches, watching Michael beneath him and thinking how badly he wants it. He’s about to open his mouth, say something about it even though it might not be the best plan to have sex right after moving in when their bed is currently just an assembled bedframe, a mattress and pillows and sheets tossed onto the mattress with the empty promise that they’ll do it later.

There’s a knock on the door and Luke sighs, bowing his head into Michael’s chest. If it was some damn old lady welcoming them to the building with flowers and a casserole, Luke was going to internally scream for a ruined moment.

“I’ll get it,” Michael whispers, kissing his cheek and Luke sits back on the couch, folding his legs underneath himself.

Michael opens the door with a cordial smile and is met with Calum, his hair all over the place and his shoulders tense as he stormed in. “Hello to you, too,” Michael teases, shutting the door behind him.

Luke frowns as Calum starts pacing fervently. Calum was staying on campus at UNSW but since class didn’t start for another month or so, he was still staying at home with his parents. It was about an hour from there to here and if Calum drove an hour just to pace in their living room, something was wrong.

“Are you okay?” Luke asks carefully.

“I don’t know,” Calum admits quietly, collapsing onto the middle cushion of the couch. Admittedly, it wasn’t the comfiest thing in the world.

“What happened?” Michael asks, sitting on his other side and putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I – fuck, it’s really complicated and I’m scared and it’s hard to say.”

“Do you want some tea while you think how to say it?” Luke asks. He knows how hard it is to spit things out; it took him a good ten minutes to tell Michael about his diagnosis.

Calum nods wordlessly, taking his phone out of his pocket and checking it while Luke gets up and goes to the kitchen. Jack’s moving-in gift to him had been a kettle, which was wonderful, and he had a mug in one of these boxes and some teabags, probably, somewhere. He eventually digs it all up and gets the tea steeping before he brings it in, handing it to Calum and sitting down next to him. Calum holds the mug between his hands, just staring at it for a little while.

“Is it black?” He asks.

“Yeah, we don’t really have any sugar or milk yet,” Luke says.

Calum nods and takes a breath. “Uh, the night we graduated and went to Ashton’s, I got his number and we’ve been texting since then and I don’t know,” he sighs. “I really like him and we hung out earlier and we ended up making out and his little brother caught us then went around telling everyone else that we were dating and I’m really confused.”

“Have you ever liked a guy before?” Michael asks quietly.

“No, not really,” he says softly. “I mean, apart from thinking either of you did your hair nice or wore a nice shirt, I’ve never really thought about guys like that.”

“Think you could?”

“Well, I do, so there’s that.”

Michael looks over at Luke, an obvious cry for help.

“Are you okay with that? That you like him?”

“I don’t know, I think so? I’m not bothered by it but I’m just scared of it, I guess. Like, I always just thought I’m straight and… I don’t want to tell him I’m okay with something and then not actually be okay and end up breaking his heart or something stupid.”

“You don’t want to just experiment with him and then toss him away?” Michael asks.

Calum nods. “Basically, yeah,” he says, rubbing over his face. “Like, am I bi? Am I gay?”

“I can’t answer that for you,” Michael says softly. “I wish I could, mate, I really wish I could because it’d get rid of a lot of confusion, yeah? But go on Google and do some research and find a label that works for you.”

“If you want a label at all,” Luke puts in.

Calum nods and pulls them both into a little huddle. “Thanks, I love you both a lot.”

“Feel free to call us next time instead of driving all the way from Richmond,” Luke smiles, ruffling his hair. “But I love you too.”

He chuckles. “I was planning on coming up anyway to see the new place. It’s cool.”

Michael chuckles. “It’s very empty so far.”

“Whose fault is that?”

“Definitely Luke’s.”

“Hey,” Luke pouts at Michael from the other side of Calum and receives only a smirk back.

They go on, bantering and talking for a while before Calum leaves and Michael and Luke finally get around to putting the sheets on their bed. It’s a larger bed than they’re used to, accounting for the both of them instead of being designed for only one of them if they were a few inches shorter. Double beds, like they had at home, are tough to squeeze two over-six-foot boys onto and now that they both have enough room and the blankets adequately cover them both, even when they cuddle up, it kind of makes them both a little giddy.

Luke wakes up well after nine the next morning to the sun streaming through their window and he huffs; summer was still in full swing and that meant hot weather, but it also meant that all the stores they’d have to visit today would be cold and air-conditioned. Michael shifts next to him, his hand touching his shoulder just to check that he’s still there and Luke smiles, his annoyance at the heat of summer gone and replaced with overwhelming fondness for Michael.

“Morning,” he says softly.

“Hmm,” Michael hums, his eyes still mostly closed. “Morning.”

Luke rolls over and presses a quick kiss to his lips. “We have to get up and start buying things,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to his chest. “We need stuff to cook with and we need food to cook.”

“But I suck at cooking,” Michael whinges, his words all muddled together.

“You don’t suck at it, you’ve never tried it, dork,” Luke teases, playing with his hair. “Now, c’mon, we have to shower and stuff.”

Michael groans, huffing a little.

“Remember that café we saw just down the street? And you said you thought it was cute and it was on the way to uni so you’d probably end up getting coffee there a lot? They probably have something for breakfast, I saw a sign for lunch.”

“Fine. I’ll shower when you’re done.”

Luke presses a quick kiss to his lips before getting up.

They come home a few hours later, trying to balance all their bags as they travel from the car to the elevator and from the elevator to their flat in an attempt to make as few trips as possible. It’s difficult to manoeuvre their keys when they get to the door and Michael drops their new ceramic pan, and Luke laughs at him. They put away groceries when they get inside and find homes for their new kitchenware before Luke makes dinner, Michael sitting on the counter beside the stove.

Throughout Luke cooking, which is really kind of a loose statement since they bought an already-cooked chicken, Michael steals bites and Luke chastises him, though it doesn’t stick because he does it with a grin and a kiss. They eat together on the couch because they have no room for a table and chairs and it was cheaper this way. Michael swings his leg over Luke’s lap, picking pieces of chicken off his bowl before setting it on the coffee table beside Luke’s empty bowl.

Michael finds his laptop and they watch a movie off it since Ben didn’t donate his old TV and they didn’t really want to spend more money on one. They have Netflix, anyway, and Luke is sure that when they’re both earning money they’ll think about spending more money than they do now.

Michael’s phone buzzes about a third of the way into the movie and Luke can feel it against his hip. “Who’s it?” He asks, letting his head rest on Michael’s shoulder.

“I’d tell you if I could get my phone out of my pocket, no thanks to your damn leg,” Michael teases, kissing his head as he works at getting his phone out of his pocket. It isn’t altogether comfortable for Luke but he’s too lazy to move his head.

“Not my fault you wear skinny jeans,” Luke retorts. “At this rate, you’ll never be able to have kids.”

“Oh, yeah, says the one wearing the exact same brand of jeans that I am,” he says, finally getting his phone out.

“Yeah, well, you’re mean.”

Michael kisses his cheek as he taps in his passcode with one hand. “You love me.”

“I do, it’s a curse.”

He smiles and opens his messages. “It’s from Calum,” he says, reading it. “Aw, Ashton asked him on a date and he said yes.”

Luke grins and shifts so his chin is resting on Michael’s shoulder. “Aw, babe, we helped set them up, sort of.”

“He says he thinks he’s bi or pan. That’s so cute, they’re going to be adorable together.”

Luke leans down and kisses him quickly. “Tell him I love him.”

Michael types out a quick reply before putting his phone on the arm of the couch, guiding Luke down to kiss him again. “I did.”

Luke chuckles, completely forgetting that the movie was still playing until he noticed the movie in the background: the sigh of the lead actress above the plunking of keys on the piano as the soundtrack started to play. Michael’s lips are against his and even though they’ve been kissing for three and a half years, it still makes his heart flutter and his breath catch. He completely disregards the movie and the sounds of the lead starting to cry despite the fact he feels a quick rush of concern and wonders what happened between her and her boyfriend that lead to this before Michael opens his mouth against his and their tongues are moving together now.

The music starts to crest, works to make the audience know how to feel and to convey the message as the actress gasps in her breathy sobs and Luke’s hand moves up Michael’s hip. (Honestly the music is pretty inappropriate for the situation but he can’t bring himself to care.) He’s wearing a Blink shirt, Luke noted earlier, and they’re kissing, the noise of their lips and their tongues and the soft exhales through their noses overpowering the scene change in the film.

Michael slides backwards, starting to lie down and pulling Luke with him, his fingers gripping at his shirt and making it ride up. It isn’t hard, because Luke has two choices when buying shirts, something that fits around him nicely or something that covers his torso without riding up since he’s so damn tall. Michael pulls away from the kiss to quietly gasp in air, his touch light against Luke’s back and at the lack of contact between their lips, he leans down and starts kissing at Michael’s neck. His nose bumps his earlobe, feeling the cool metal of his piercing and reminding himself to look into getting his lip done.

“ _God_ ,” Michael whispers, tilting his head back.

“You good?” Luke asks. He speaks with his lips still flush against Michael’s skin and he shivers underneath him.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Want you, is all.”

Luke pulls off his neck and looks at him. “Right now?”

“Do you have a better time?”

Michael’s lips spread into a fond smirk. “No, just, I – not on the couch.”

It doesn’t settle into Luke until they’re in the bedroom and the door is shut and he presses Michael against it, catches his lips between his own in a gentle kiss, that he is about to lose his virginity. He’s a little while late on it, they both are and they would’ve done it earlier if it hadn’t been for Luke’s getting sick and then the continuous pace of school ruining his already suffering libido with stress. At Luke’s inquiry to Ashton as to what it was like, he could only offer that it was kind of strange the first time and that they should use more lube than they think would be necessary.

Michael’s hand comes up and starts working at the buttons of Luke’s shirt, taking too long on the first couple of buttons. Luke’s hands are holding Michael’s cheeks, warm, and keeping him close and gripping maybe a little too tight but he’s worried his hands will shake if he doesn’t hold on too tight. Michael tugs at his shirt when he undoes the final button, unable to get it off with their bodies so close like this.

Luke pulls away from the kiss, taking a few breaths as he pulls his shirt off, exposing the scar on his chest from the Hickman line that Ashton and Michael had promised wasn’t as noticeable as he thought it was, and exposing the needle marks on his arms and potential marks on his hips and at the bottom of his spine. Michael’s lips immediately land over his heart, over where Luke can still feel the ghost of needles and nurses hands, cold and gentle through their gloves. He bites gently and Luke hisses quietly at the feeling; his teeth provide an incredibly different feeling than the hands of the nurses who worked with him and he takes a moment to revel in the dichotomy of it while his hands grab the hem of Michael’s shirt.

“Stop that,” he bites out. “Want you naked.”

Michael lets out a single, breathy giggle and he pulls away, smirking like a bastard as he crosses his arms and grabs the hem of his shirt with both hands. He lifts his shirt over his head in a fluid motion and Luke’s mouth may hang ajar as he watches it, completely turned on.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “When’d you learn to do that?”

“Does it matter?” Michael asks, wrapping his arms around Luke’s neck and pulling him down for another kiss.

“God you’re hot,” Luke mumbles, his hands on Michael’s bare hips as he guides them back, towards their bed.

Michael’s legs bump into the bed and he loses his balance for a moment, squeaking as he grabs onto Luke tighter and immediately starts laughing at himself, Luke joining in as he kisses down his throat, feeling the bubbles of his laughter. It’s clumsy for the both of them getting on the bed, but it happens, and Luke is biting marks into Michael’s hips while his fingers shakily undo his jeans.

“I’m gunna need your help,” he mumbles, tugging with no real force and pouting.

“You’re a liar,” Michael replies, eyes shut. “Do it your damn self. You wear skinny jeans.”

Luke beams, kissing Michael’s chest gently as he works, with cooperative leg motions from Michael that expedite the process. Once his jeans are tossed away, landing either on the hardwood floor or a box, he’s left facing Michael’s tented boxers.

“Gorgeous, you know that?” Luke murmurs, squeezing Michael’s thighs. The butterflies have multiplied and he’s still thinking how damn lucky, how fucking privileged he is to love Michael.

Michael sits up, undoing Luke’s button and zip and pushing his jeans down to his knees. “Stop being a sap and fuck me.”

Luke chuckles quietly, forcing his jeans off through a series of movements that remind him with straining muscles just how much walking he did today. While he’s doing it, Michael paws through the bedside table, locating the actually handy bottle of lube that he only has as a gag gift from Ashton and a condom, which Luke wasn’t quite sure if they had or not, and it all starts to feel very real in those few minutes.

Luke tugs Michael’s boxers off, kissing him softly as he does and taking his cock into his hand, stroking slowly and it makes Michael whine into his mouth. This is normal, they’ve done this before, but there’s a weight behind it with the promise that they’re going to do something they haven’t done before. Luke pulls away slowly, looking Michael in the eyes and searching for any hesitation or nervousness that could negate their need for a condom.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” He asks quietly.

“Yes,” Michael whispers. “Always yes.”

Luke nods, sliding his own boxers off now to save time before he grabs the lube. It’s cool against his hand and he worries it’ll be worse for Michael, so he does his best to make sure his hands are warm as he grips Michael’s thigh. He gives it a quick squeeze as he slides his finger down between Michael’s cheeks and pushes his fingers in.

Michael tenses up, breathes in sharply and Luke stops, only his finger about halfway up to the second knuckle inside him. “Breathe, sweetheart, relax,” Luke guides softly, stroking his thigh.

“Feels weird,” Michael breathes gently, letting his breath out in an exhale punctuated with little vibratos.

“Relax, breathe,” he reminds him, taking his cock with his free hand and stroking it softly.

Michael makes a noise in the back of his throat, relaxing and nodding. Luke pushes his finger deeper, worrying about Michael’s description of weird and wondering if this was even the right thing for them. He’d read in some internet research about gay sex that some couples decided to never take that step due to personal reasons or comfort levels and the article reassured him that couples that didn’t have penetrative sex were just as valid and loving as those that did. Luke wonders if they’re one of those couples that should steer clear of this and instead stick with handjobs and blowjobs and call it a day.

Luke pushes his index finger in deep, keeping his hand on Michael’s cock moving slowly to keep him relaxed and relaxing himself when Michael chokes out a small moan, shifting his hips down against it. He slides a second finger in and it’s met with a hiss that slowly becomes a moan and Luke keeps his movements slow, pulling his fingers out to add more lube. He pushes his fingers in and out slowly, leaning up to kiss Michael and he’s happy to find that his lips move against eager ones and Michael moaning softly into his mouth.

By the time Luke is sliding in the third and final finger, watching the beautiful way that Michael’s brows knit together and watching his muscles strain as he grabs at the sheets, he has to wrap a hand around himself and stroke himself slowly to take the edge off.

“Christ, Luke, just hurry the fuck up before I come now,” Michael whines. “Please.”

“Patience,” Luke says softly, kissing over his nipple and making him whimper again, his chest moving faster. He pushes his fingers deep a few more times before he pulls them out.

It’s difficult to open the condom with his fingers still covered in lube so he wipes them on the sheets, making a mental note to get laundry detergent, but he does. He can hear the movie still playing off Michael’s laptop and none of the words are audible but the angry tone is and he tries his best to ignore it, thinking that most people usually have music playing during this, something sexy to really set the mood. His fingers tremble only slightly as he opens the bottle of lube again, the feeling in his cock overpowering any remaining nerves as he works the lube onto the condom.

His hands carefully hold Michael’s hips, his thumbs brushing gently over his warm skin as he starts to push into him, whispering a mantra of “relax, it’s okay” to Michael as he felt nothing but too-tight resistance. It wasn’t like he was on the edge of coming right now because it was tight and honestly, it hurt a little bit.

“Relax,” Luke whispers, kissing at Michael’s jaw and stroking his cock slowly.

Michael tips his head back and takes a deep breath. “Keep going,” he whispers.

Luke pushes in further, slowly, and it’s starting to feel good now. He buries his face in Michael’s shoulder and stops the minute he feels nails digging into his back, worried he’s hurting Michael.

“No, keep going,” Michael whispers, his fingertips soothing over the little crescents his nails made in his back and he shivers.

“You okay?” Luke asks, kissing at his ear.

Michael makes a noise that sounds like he was going to hum in response but it ended up as a bit more of a moan and Luke chuckles quietly. “Yeah, I’m good. Move.”

Luke starts moving slowly, now concentrating on not coming right here and now and ending it in a matter of seconds. He stays slow and that’s about how he would describe the entire thing: slow and sweet and a little awkward the few times Luke slips out of him and when they bump noses kissing. But it’s perfect, because there they are, moving together and Luke is making Michael moan and whine and arch his back and pant and he’s done it all before but somehow this time it’s different. As they move together, always slowly because they’re still learning, they kiss and mutter compliments and reminders that they love each other.

It’s the best orgasm Luke has ever had, hands down, and he comes nearly right as Michael does with a bitten-off cry into his shoulder and his fingers digging hard into his hips. It’s the best afterglow as well, and Luke takes the condom off while he still has the strength, even though his fingers are shaking a little bit and he’s exhausted. He cuddles into Michael when he’s done, breathing out a sigh to end his panting, smiling up at him.

“You’re gorgeous when you come, you know that?” He whispers, reaching up to play with his hair. “And you look amazing all undone like that.”

Michael chuckles, kissing his forehead. “You sound hot when you come. You’re gorgeous.”

“I love you,” Luke whispers, even though they’ve mumbled and moaned it to each other about a million times in the past hour. He can’t help it, though, because his chest just feels like it could burst with how in love he is with Michael and how, no matter how hard he tries to be realistic and see the glass half empty, all he can see is a future with him. It’s been three and a half years of them and maybe they weren’t supposed to last this long together or burn so bright even after so long together when one might assume their love were flickering out but they’re the one percent and they’ve beaten odds as individuals and in their relationship.

Luke is just so, _so_ in love with him.

“I love you, too,” Michael murmurs, kissing him quickly.

There’s a goddamn supernova in his chest, he swears as he starts to fall asleep all tangled with Michael, because nothing could ever burn so bright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	32. 40 879 308m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _in the rain the pavement shines like silver_   
>  _all the lights are misty in the river_   
>  _in the darkness, the trees are full of starlight_   
>  _and all i see is him and me forever, and forever_

Their final weekend of not working, they go out for one final night, not really to get drunk but to just have fun before their weekends and weekdays are consumed with work and school. Luke also finally got the lip piercing he’d been thinking of getting, in the lower left corner of his mouth with a small black stud that was hardly noticeable but also the hottest thing ever. Michael still wants an eyebrow piercing but he’s worried that it would get him fired since his job has so much social interaction. As it is, he’s keeping his hair black for the sake of his job even though he’s wanted to go back to green since Christmas.

They go out on Saturday evening, mostly using it as an excuse to finally know their way around their neighbourhood, their ways to work and their ways to school. It’s a glorified evening walk, punctuated by a stop in a bar for a few drinks just to see if the place was any good and if it would be a place worth frequenting. It’s a bar, honestly, since Michael doesn’t know what makes a bar “good” or “bad”, unless the qualities in question are hygiene or cleanliness.

They leave the bar and walk down the street, passing a closed used bookstore that looked okay, and a good place to try and find his books for university, Luke’s hand squeezing Michael’s to get his attention.

“Let’s go down to the beach,” Luke suggests. “It’s still pretty warm out.”

“You’re a sap,” Michael teases, even though the word and the tease itself has probably lost some impact because he’s been saying it for like, four years.

“I just like the ocean, you dick,” he pouts, pushing their shoulders together in a playful shove.

“Like a huge sap would. But fine, let’s have a romantic evening walk on the beach like we’re a pair of rom-com protagonists or something. When you make an eHarmony account, be sure and include that in things you like.”

“I’ll never need an eHarmony account,” Luke says, a small smile on his lips. “Because I’ve got you.”

Michael can’t help but roll his eyes, even though he’s smiling like a huge fond idiot. “See? You’re a total sap.”

Luke sticks his bottom lip out as they cross the street. “You’re a dick.”

“I love you,” he consoles, leaning up to kiss his pout.

Luke stops his lips with a firm palm cupping over his mouth. “No you don’t.”

Michael pulls his hand out of Luke’s, wrapping both arms around him as they walked and leaning his head against his shoulder. “You’re my favourite person ever and I love you to the stars and back.”

“Gross cliché,” Luke mumbles, even though he wraps his arms around him and kisses his head.

“You’re gross.”

“See? So you _don’t_ actually love me.”

“Ugh, you’re impossible,” he groans, sighing.

Luke grins at him and his piercing looks extra cute and Michael wants to touch it but thinks better of it, letting his hands stay around him because of infection risk and whatnot. It was only a few days old still and it made Luke’s lip adorably swollen, forcing the left side of his mouth to have a constant partial pout. “But you love me.”

Michael groans. “Yeah, more than anything else.”

They go down to the beach and it was perhaps a poor idea to do it with actual shoes that quickly fill with sand and all the way up and into his socks and it is the _worst_ feeling in the world but he puts up with it for Luke. It’s cool near the ocean, too, with the breeze and the darkness of night, but it’s okay because they spend most of their time there wrapped up together, the two of them finding a good log to use as a seat while they watch the tide roll in.

It is soothing to sit and listen to the ocean, Michael decides, with someone he loves more than anything and a feeling that’s incomparable to anything else. He decides it’s a good night, even though he’s walked a lot and his legs will definitely be sore (though he should really get used to that as a waiter) and his shoes will have to be vacuumed out or some shit to get every bit of sand and rock out or he’ll have sandy shoes for the rest of his life, or until these ones fall apart, whichever comes first.

It’s cloudy as they start their way back to their flat, still laughing about some joke that he can hardly even remember now, and hand-in-hand, walking in a way that was vaguely musical and rhythmic, pulling apart from each other and taking up the entire sidewalk before squeezing back into a single entity to take up less space, let others pass or share a kiss. It’s cloudy now and they’re headed away from the ocean, but Michael can still hear it if he thinks about it and he can still see the lights from ferries reflecting off the ocean’s surface, a little misty and dulled but giving the illusion of fairy lights. It makes him think of the stars and he tips his head up to look for them, Luke’s arm now around his shoulders as they walk.

It’s cloudy and there’s a couple of trees on this particular block, an attempt to add greenery to an otherwise concrete jungle, but Michael swears to God that the trees are full of starlight and maybe it’s the alcohol in his system messing with his vision or maybe it’s something else. It’s so goddamn beautiful, though and Luke squeezes his shoulder.

“What are you looking at?” He asks quietly, continuing to walk and making Michael look over at him.

“Just the sky,” Michael says softly, leaning into his grip and looking at him and into his eyes. It’s dark so he can’t quite make out the colour but he’s pretty sure he’s memorized it and he could tell it apart from any other shade of blue in the universe.

It hits him then, as Luke grins at him, that this is it and this is all he’ll ever have. It hits him like a train that all he can see forever and forever is himself and Luke together. Maybe it’s just that they’ve been together for so long but he can’t imagine being with anyone else and he can’t imagine marrying someone else, if that ever becomes legal, and he just can’t imagine anyone else. He won’t have to bring someone home to meet his mum and his dad because he fell in love with his best friend and it makes his head spin in the best way.

“And me?” Luke asks.

“Always you,” Michael chuckles.

“And you call me the sap,” Luke teases as they get to their building, fumbling with his keys that were all attached to a key ring his aunt had given him after she visited England.

Michael laughs and follows him inside up to their flat, returning the kiss he gets when the door is shut and they’re inside, alone in their own flat. He’s still sort of baffled about it, even though it’s been nearly a week, that they live alone and they are, in all senses and interpretations of the word, adults. It’s strange, he thinks, that Luke has been so babied and cared for in nearly all aspects of his life that he guesses it’s all been sort of shocking for him to suddenly be independent, whereas Michael’s known how to survive on his own since he was sixteen and his mum’s hours got changed to three to eleven and they hardly ever saw each other.

They curl up in bed together and Michael is tired but he’s still thinking about how Luke is his definite one and only and he’s wondering if Luke feels the same way. His fingers are carding through his hair and they don’t have to be this squished up anymore since their bed is big enough for the both of them but it’s cozy.

“In like, four years we’re going to have our lives together,” Luke says softly. “Can you believe that?”

“No, not at all,” Michael murmurs. “We can’t seriously be that close to actual adulthood.”

“God, we’re going to have to like, think about jobs and marriage and shit.”

Michael laughs quietly. “Marriage?”

“Well, I mean, if it’s ever legalized here,” Luke elaborates. “I hope it is.”

“Me too,” he says softly, turning so they were almost chest-to-chest, their left sides pressed together and he can feel Luke’s heartbeat against his ribs.

“I want that,” he whispers.

“Marriage?”

“Mhm,” he says softly, brushing his hand through his hair. “Preferably with you. I can’t really see myself with anyone else.”

Michael smiles. “Oh yeah? What else do you want? Like, in life?”

Luke chuckles and kisses his forehead. “I want kids,” he admits quietly, like he’s a little bit embarrassed.

“You want kids?”

He nods. “Yeah, like, not a houseful of them, but a couple of them.”

Michael has a tease waiting in his throat but this moment is just too sweet for it and he decides against it. “Yeah? Preferably with me?”

“God, of course,” Luke breathes, the smallest and sweetest smile playing at his lips. “Always with you. I, like, I want to do everything with you. Graduate, get married. Do it all.”

“We’ve discussed marriage,” Michael chuckles, unable to stop grinning like an idiot. “What else do you want to do? Places you want to go, people you want to meet?”

Luke hums for a minute, his lip stud quirking with the tilt of his mouth. “I want to travel.”

“Where?” Michael asks.

“I really want to go to America. Like, California. See what the ocean and beaches and everything is like over there.”

He nods. “Even though we have the best beaches out of basically anywhere?”

“Well, after I see California’s obviously terrible beaches, I’ll be able to stop taking the ones here for granted,” he teases. “What about you? Where do you want to go?”

Michael shrugs. He’d never really thought about travelling because he’d never had all that much money and always thought that the furthest trip he’d ever get to take would be just to Perth or Auckland or something. Of course, he still doesn’t have all that much money but he’s starting work soon and he’ll be in school soon which will cut down on time available to travel at all, but he’s never really thought about it. He’s never felt an urge to go America or Canada or New Zealand, even.  “Dunno,” he answers. “I’d follow you anywhere.”

Luke kisses his forehead. “Well, one day when we have steady income and we’re still childless, we should travel the entire damn world. Go, like, everywhere, and get married somewhere where it’s awesome and legal.”

“It’s legal in Canada, I think. And some places in the US. We should look it up and get married somewhere really cool.”

Luke reaches over to the bedside table where his phone is charging. “I’ll look up those places. It’s legal in England too, yeah?”

“I think so?”

He keeps his arms around Michael as he taps into his phone, waiting for the page to load before rattling off the countries listed on it and looking at him. “So which one?”

Michael laughs. “We’re not even engaged.”

Luke chuckles a little. “That’s true. So, marry me sometime?”

It isn’t how he imagined he would it would go, so casual and informal when really all he’d been exposed to were big flourishing proposals with flash mobs and music and that Bruno Mars song, but it makes his head spin nonetheless. “Okay.”

“That’s all I get?” Luke laughs. “Okay?!”

“I only got ‘so, marry me sometime’!” He does a bad impression of Luke’s deep voice and it leaves them both laughing.

Once they’ve calmed down and Luke kisses him, it’s heavier again. “I’ll give you a proper proposal,” he whispers. “I promise. It’ll be the best damn thing.”

Michael nods, kissing him again. “What if I wanted to propose to you?”

“Then you can do it. Just tell me before I go shopping for a ring.”

“Okay.”

It’s quiet and Michael rests his head on Luke’s chest, realizing that he was, essentially, engaged to Luke now and it made his heart flutter with the knowledge he would have to tell his parents and Luke would tell his family, but that would probably all happen after a ring had been found and an actual proposal had taken place. And though he was only eighteen and he still had a long time to live, he didn’t mind that Luke was his one and only.

 

Michael hadn’t quite realized the true severity of perennially sore legs when he’d applied to be a waiter, but he did now that he was working and going to school, especially since there was a little walk from the parking lot to the biology building and especially since his schedule conflicted with Luke’s on three out of five days and he was forced to transit to school. He knew now, though, that being forced to be on his feet almost all day left him achy and grumpy, and his life became a cycle of painkillers after a particularly long shift.

Luke, for all his loving effort, tried his best to help and often got up to get the painkillers for him, even though his job required quite a bit of standing as well. It was different for him because his was mostly stationary standing and Michael’s was walking and pacing and being on time to tables and being social.

It was all exhausting, keeping up with work and school, but they were doing it. They were paying rent on time and paying bills on time and affording groceries and everything all while keeping up with schoolwork and seeing Calum every weekend unless all three of them had no commitments on one day during the week. It was working despite Michael’s pessimistic but realistic thoughts that they would go under and their relationship would suffer.

They’re on break from school, assigned with books to read and things to do, and it’s kind of nice because it means that Ashton and Calum can visit more often but it also means that they’re working more and it’s interfering with their plans of just lazing around and having sex as often as possible. Seeing Ashton and Calum is nice despite the fact they’re constantly touching each other and kissing and looking at each other like they’re each other’s’ sun and moon (which, now he thinks about it, is probably the way he and Luke exchange looks).

It’s a Tuesday night in their second week of break and Michael is tucked into Luke’s side as they watch some movie off Luke’s laptop, a movie that’s so typical it nearly hurts and the plot is as predictable as the phases of the moon. It’s some Brad Pitt film and he’s never understood the obsession with him, since all he really has going for him in attractiveness is his body and even then it’s a bit of a strain.

Michael is watching the scene of desperate angst play out between Brad and his female co-star, an actress relatively new to Hollywood whose name Michael can’t think of for the world, when there’s a knock on the door.

“Can you?” Luke asks, hitting the spacebar on his laptop to pause the film. “I’ve got the laptop.”

“Okay,” Michael says, sitting up and kissing Luke’s cheek before he stands and goes to the door.

It’s Calum, ashen-faced and looking like a lost puppy. “I’m broken,” he says, his voice tight like he’s on the verge of tears and Michael’s heart sinks immediately as he wonders if Ashton broke his friend’s heart and pushing back thoughts of violence and anxieties about how this will affect him and Luke as he pulls him in.

“What’s wrong?” Michael asks, locking the door as Calum curls up on the middle cushion he vacated.

Luke sets his laptop aside, the screen only open a little bit at this point. “You okay?”

Calum pulls his knees to his chest, stays tucked in on himself like that. “I don’t know but there’s something wrong with me.”

Michael’s first thought is _oh fuck he’s got cancer_ before he regroups enough to actually ask. “What do you mean? Physically?”

“Sort of? I don’t know,” he’s verging on hysterics now.

“Hey, hey, take a breath,” Michael soothes as he sits next to him.

Calum pulls in a shuddering breath and looks at him, eyes wide and desperate.

“What happened? Was it something with soccer or school or Ashton?” Luke asks when he’s done drawing and exhaling a few deep breaths.

“Sort of Ashton,” Calum mumbles.

“What happened?”

“I.. I just, all we’ve done is kiss since we got together,” he says. “Like, I jerked him off once and that’s it and he’s suggesting that we do more this week while we’re still both on break and I don’t want to. I don’t know why but I’ve never really… enjoyed sex or wanted to have it and I don’t want to make myself do something just for him because that’s wrong, isn’t it? And I don’t want to _not_  do it because I’ll offend him and then he’ll think I’m not actually attracted to him but I am, I love him so much and he’s one of my favourite people, but I don’t want to have sex with him, or anyone, really. And that’s just so weird because sex is such a normal thing and I _should_ want it, like everyone else does, but I don’t want it and I don’t know why.”

“That’s not bad,” Michael assures him quickly. “It doesn’t mean you’re broken or anything.”

“Then what does it mean?” Calum asks, voice high and hysteric as his eyes filled with tears. “Does it mean I don’t love him? Does it mean I _can’t_ love anyone? Because I had sex with a few girls and I never really, I dunno, I never really enjoyed it. I never really wanted it and I don’t know why because I felt like I loved them but did I? Do I love people? Am I some weird freak?”

“Calum, breathe,” Luke says from his other side. “There’s no point in getting yourself all worked up over this.”

Calum takes a shaky breath, batting the tears off his cheeks with a frustrated hand. “I just want to be normal.”

Michael squeezes his hand. “You are, Calum. I can’t really tell you what you are, but have you heard of asexuality?”

“That’s like, plants and shit, isn’t it?”

“No, no, it happens in people too, but not in that way. It’s like being gay, sort of. Luke, can you pass me the laptop?”

Luke nods, handing his laptop over.

Michael minimizes the window playing the movie and opens Google, finding a link to the asexuality visibility and education network. When the page loads, he hands the laptop to Calum, watching him click to a different page and scroll before reading it. It takes a few minutes but the look of realization dawning over his face is one of the most beautiful things.

“Oh my God,” Calum whispers. “I think I’m asexual.”

Michael grins a little and shares the smile with Luke. “See? Not so scary, is it?”

Calum smiles at him. “Thank you,” he says as he clicks on another link.

Luke leans over to high-five him and they laugh a little before he notices Calum’s smile drop off his face.

“You okay?” He asks, focusing on Calum.

Calum looks up from the laptop, his eyes worried again. “What about Ashton? Oh God, he’s not going to want to be with me anymore, he’s going to think I hate him because he knows I’ve had sex before and he’ll think it’s just him and the fact he’s a guy and fuck, fuck, I’m going to fuck everything up.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Michael says, taking the laptop off his lap and setting it aside. “Look at me.”

Calum looks at him, already trying to breathe deeply but it’s exacerbating the tears in his eyes and making them fall again. “I don’t want to fuck things up. I love him.”

“If he doesn’t accept this part of you, he’s an asshole, plain and simple,” Michael says softly.

“Explain it to him,” Luke soothes, rubbing Calum’s back. “And encourage him to look into it himself. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

Calum takes a deep breath and wipes at his eyes again. “Okay. Thank you, guys.”

Michael and Luke wrap their arms around him and Calum sniffles a little bit.

“How do I do it?” Calum asks. “I’ve never really had to come out as anything, honestly. I just told my mum that I was seeing Ashton now and I never put a label on it but I have to come out to Ash and I don’t know how.”

“Honestly,” Luke says. “Don’t like, dance around it and apologize for it over and over, just tell him.”

He nods. “I kind of just want to get it over with now.”

“Here?” Michael asks. He’d definitely be willing to let it happen here since it might be easier for Calum when he’s with his friends and it might be kind of nice to have the article about asexuality open right there for Ashton to read.

“No, no, I’ll be okay to drive and I kinda abandoned him in my dorm so I should go deal with that.”

Michael nods. “Text me when you’re done pashing his brains out.”

Calum grins at him. “I said the same thing about you and Luke,” he reminds him as he hugs him.

“Yeah, that’s why I said it,” he chuckles. “Good luck, okay? Text one of us or just come by again.”

He nods, hugging Luke again before standing up. “Thank you guys so much,” he says earnestly.

They assure him that it was no trouble before he leaves and they go back to watching the Brad Pitt film, which improves only marginally with few scenes of obligatory comedy. By the time the credits are rolling, Michael’s phone vibrates and he opens it to see it’s a picture from Calum, him and Ashton crammed into the shot and both of them sporting purple marker hearts on their cheeks, with a text confirming that Ashton had reacted well and decided they would do their best to work things out between them, even if it were a little hard or scary. Michael is honestly so proud of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so the bit about the eharmony account? that was apparently my beta's favourite part so i hope you enjoyed it! please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	33. 28 335 389m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know if i've ever mentioned that this fic has two parts? i originally planned to post it in these two giant parts but then i got convinced to post it in chapters (mostly because i really like attention). anyway! this chapter marks the end of part one! also, thank you guys so much for 100 kudos and 2000+ hits and nearly 200 comments, your support means so much to me thank you thank you!!!

Luke has always been aware of the stress of university, having always seen it in basically every young adult movie and book and show ever. It’s hyperbolized to the point of comedy, university students with looming exams throwing fits and binging on Ramen noodles and pulling all-nighters in an attempt to absorb as much information as their textbooks could impart. He thought it was all comedy, until his exams were coming up and he was studying so hard for his English exam that he completely forgot what the difference between metonymy and metaphor was. He had spent that particular caffeine-enhanced night staring blankly at the couch until Michael reminded him tactfully that, “Google exists, Luke.”

Adding to the stress of his upcoming exams was the fact that Luke has felt like shit for the past few days. His last doctor’s appointment, two weeks ago, showed that his blood levels were normal and there was no indication that his leukemia was back as it had been for the past eleven months. But he felt so, so awful these past few days and all he can think is that it feels like it did when he was fifteen and thought he just had a bad cold.

The logical side of his brain tells him that he’s fine, that it _is_ just a bad cold this time and that he has another appointment in two weeks and there’s no point in worrying because worrying doesn’t fix anything. He spends a good ten minutes just staring at his doctor’s office number, debating whether or not he should make the appointment to get his blood tested again until he decides he’s being ridiculous and separates himself from his phone. He calls in sick to work, just in case ( _because_ , he corrects himself) it is a bad cold or the flu, and curls up in bed, too anxious to even think about picking up his English book and studying for his test, which was approaching faster than he could even think about.

He refuses to think about his headache and the fact it isn’t gone after he downed a few pills and went to bed with the hopes that he would be asleep by now. He refuses to wonder if this is a recurrence and it’s spread to his brain. He refuses to think about how fucking pointless it would be to go through with purchasing that five hundred dollar ring he’d found, which was gorgeous and _so_ Michael that he’d been saving every spare dollar to save up for it.

Luke hears Michael come home from work and dreads his coming in. He feels too shitty to pretend he feels fine and he doesn’t want to tell him because he’ll worry and it’ll turn into a Thing and his mum will find out and ask him to come home. He shuts his eyes, hoping that he can pretend to be asleep so that Michael will just get changed and go start studying without bothering him, until he can maybe get some sleep and stop feeling so gross.

“Oh,” Michael says when he walks in. “I thought you had work,” his voice is low, just in case Luke is asleep.

He debates whether or not to grunt or say something or just pretend he’s sleeping. “I don’t feel well,” he ends up whispering, half hoping that his voice was quiet enough that Michael wouldn’t hear him.

Michael undoes his tie, which he’s still a little shocked that he knows how to actually tie in the first place, and sits down next to him. “What’s wrong? I’ll go pick up something from the pharmacy, if you want. And there’s ginger ale in the fridge, I’ll grab you some.”

“No,” he whispers. “I feel dizzy and weak and tired.”

Michael brushes a hand through his hair, biting at his lip to keep the worry off his face. “Have you made a doctor’s appointment?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t want to miss exams,” he says, as it dawns on him that exams are coming up and he’s essentially wasted a good few hours of revision.

“Health comes before everything,” Michael whispers, kissing his hair. “You know that, love.”

“But what if it is back?” He asks, the panic rising in his voice and in his chest.

“Then we’ll deal with it.”

Luke shoves his face into Michael’s lap, trying his hardest not to cry.

“Where’s your phone, love? I’ll get it.”

“It’s in the kitchen,” Luke replies, forcing himself to take a deep breath and forcing the high whine out of his voice and the sob down in his chest. His entire world is shaking and he doesn’t want to have to go through all of that again, all of that intense chemo, especially now that he was older and he wasn’t really eating as well as he used to and he would probably have a harder time recovering.

Michael kisses his head. “I’ll be right back, sweetheart, just stay here,” he soothes. “And take a few breaths, okay?”

Luke does as he’s told while Michael’s gone, taking long deep breaths to counts of five until Michael comes back with his phone, handing it to him with the screen already on. His mum has texted and asked how he’s doing and reminding him to study and there’s a text from Ashton asking if he’s free this weekend. He ignores both of them, calling his doctor and keeping his head in Michael’s lap, his fingers in his hair, as he makes an appointment and tries to avoid chatting with the receptionist as much as possible since he’s just too anxious to make small talk.

When he’s done, he sends his mum a text and tells her he’s doing well and he’s studying hard and tells Ashton he’ll have to see about that before he curls up, his head against Michael’s thighs. He shuts his eyes and Michael keeps playing with his hair, murmuring and telling him he’s okay.

Luke doesn’t know if it’s true or not and he sniffles. “Sing to me?” He asks quietly.

Michael kisses his temple, starting to sing to him in a low voice and it makes Luke feel like he will be okay, even if his body is betraying him and even if he has to go through chemo so bad it makes him wish they would just let him die. He ends up falling asleep like that and he wakes up not long later, with a jump because he can’t remember falling asleep, to Michael next to him on the bed, studying.

The rest of the evening is spent with them curled up close together and it ends with them reading out passages of textbooks to each other in an attempt to actually learn the material.

Luke’s appointment is the following Monday and Michael’s first class gets cancelled so he goes with him. It’s terrifying and Luke has always hated needles, though he’s a little more used to them now, but it’s one of the worst times of all and he nearly cries. After his appointment, where he also got a few other tests since his nose was now runny and he had another few symptoms indicative of a cold instead of leukemia. The worst part, after it, is the waiting for results and staring at his phone, even though he knows it takes the lab about a day to get anything.

Luke does his best to just study and get his mind off of it, studying and trying to ignore his cough and runny nose with thoughts that they’re the beginnings of some infection that will get worse and worse in time with the leukemia and they won’t be able to treat him. He studies and plays mindless games on the internet, trying his best to not stop and stare at his phone.

He gets a call shortly after Michael gets home with two packages of cold meds and a big bottle of orange juice, telling him that his blood test was still normal but his other tests showed that he probably just had a classic case of the common cold and hypochondria. The nurse he speaks to reminds him to take vitamin C and rest as much as he can and Luke just can’t stop thanking her over and over as she laughs and calls him love as she hangs up.

“Was that the doctor’s?” Michael asks from the kitchen as he gets Luke juice.

“Yeah,” Luke says softly as Michael walks in and hands him the two tablets and a glass of orange juice. He swallows them quickly and sets the glass down.

“And?” He sits down next to him, worry plain on his face.

“I’m still in remission,” Luke beams.

Within seconds, he’s wrapped up in Michael’s arms, laughing and pulling him close with the best hug he’s ever been given.

“She said it was just the rhinovirus, probably, so you shouldn’t kiss me any time soon.” Michael blinks in confusion for a moment, looking worried before he caught Luke trying not to laugh and the words actually registered.

He started snickering and Luke was _gone,_ whole body shaking with his cackling laughter.

Michael leans up suddenly and kisses him hard and full on the lips, grinning when he pulls away. “You should know by now that I’m a bit of a rebel.”

Luke sniffles and coughs. “If you’re such a rebel, why aren’t you working to overthrow the government?”

“My priorities really just involve myself and you,” he admits, chuckling. “I’d rather just kiss you when I’m not supposed to because we’re celebrating the fact you’re still healthy.”

Luke smiles. “You’re such a dork.”

“Am I your dork, though?”

“Of course.”

Michael kisses him again but Luke pulls away after a few seconds to cough again. “So we should celebrate when you’re feeling better. And celebrate the end of exams.”

“Okay,” Luke grins, reaching over to grab his orange juice and take another sip.

“I’ll work something out with Ashton and Calum. Maybe we’ll go out clubbing or something.”

Luke nods, smiling wide enough that his cheeks ache after a while.

 

The week after exams, which are grueling and awful and Luke’s cold lingers through them, making him that one asshole in the exam that can’t stop sniffling and has to go up to the front of the room to get tissues from the teacher’s desk, the four of them plan to go out to a club. Ashton swears it’s a good place and Michael and Luke are tentative about it while Calum just shrugs and tells them that he trusts Ashton’s judgement.

They get a day of sleep to recover from how exhausting exams were before Calum and Ashton come over to Luke and Michael’s flat and they depart off to the club of Ashton’s choice. It feels kind of nice, being dressed in something that isn’t sweatpants and one of Michael’s shirts that hasn’t been laundered in a good week or so. It feels kind of nice to go out, even if he’s still only about ninety percent recovered from his cold and still shaken from the scare that he’d relapsed.

The music is loud and the first thing they do is order drinks, teasing Ashton for his “girly” drink, which he insists they try and Luke is shocked at how sweet it is. It takes a couple of drinks for Michael to start dancing, since he has the worst grasp on rhythm and beat and is, in general, an awful dancer. It takes a little longer before Luke joins and then it takes no time at all before he’s pushed away from Michael in the throng of people, bodies moving in such a way that it sucked Luke deeper into the crowd.

After a little while, when Luke can physically feel himself sweating and his legs are a little tired, he elbows his way out of the crowd and tries to find Calum on the edges of the club. He ends up just standing by the bar and looking for Michael when someone else sits next to him.

He glances over and it’s an admittedly pretty girl with an impressive amount of cleavage and a dress fashioned out of sequins that clings to her body at the perfect angles as she tries to remember to sit up straight to better accentuate the curve of her waist. Her dress stops only a few inches down her leg and her face is full of makeup and Luke immediately worries he’s going to be hit on and have to explain that he’s in a long term relationship with another guy.

“Hello, sweetheart,” she smiles, speaking loud enough to be heard over the music if Luke leaned over a little. “I’m Alice. What’s your name?”

“Uh, I’m Luke,” he replies, wanting to find a good way to excuse himself and find Michael. She wasn’t rude and he knew there would be talking to other people involved in going out but he wanted to avoid any awkwardness that might ensue.

“Do you want to dance? I feel like dancing.”

“Uhm, I-” he’s cut off as she stands up, teetering slightly in her too-high heels and she pulls him up with a surprising amount of strength.

She drags him to the dance floor and he pulls his hand away from hers at the last minute.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t dance with you.”

She pouts out her bright pink lips. “You sure? You looked pretty lonely. And,” she leans up closer to him, “I have a bit of a thing for guys with lip piercings.”

Luke’s face flushes and he pulls away again. “I, yeah, I’m sure.”

“You don’t need any company for tonight?”

It hits him then that she’s trying to proposition him and she isn’t a regular club-goer but a prostitute. “No, I’m really sorry,” he says. “I have to go find my boyfriend.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize you were-”

“It’s fine,” Luke assures her before she can describe him as gay. “Have a good night, okay?”

He rushes away, literally bumping into Michael after he’s taken a few steps, laughing when they collide before recovering and holding him by the biceps.

“Hey,” Michael says. “Who were you talking to?”

Luke smirks and decides that he should play this the fun way. “Oh, just a prostitute,” he says casually, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“You – what?” Michael asks. “You were talking to a prostitute?”

Luke nods. “Yeah, she offered me a pretty good deal, actually. She was kind of hot, too.”

Michael’s teeth dig into his lip and he nods curtly. “That’s cool.”

Luke kisses his ear, pulling him close. “I could go and find her. Bring her back.”

Michael wraps his arms around his hips, just above his ass, his grip tight.

“It might be hot, you never know.”

“No,” Michael whispers. “You’re mine.”

Luke can’t help but chuckle. “Yeah? Then show me.”

“Let’s go home.”

He glances over to try and find Calum and Ashton, locating them sitting down and laughing together. “Okay.”

They tell Calum and Ashton they’re leaving and they get teased about being old men since it’s only eleven and they’re already going home. They catch a bus home, Luke’s lip against Michael’s ear nearly the entire way, trying to work him up and succeeding, he’s sure, because every time he says something, Michael squeezes him closer and takes a small, sharp breath. They kiss all the way up the elevator, Michael pressing Luke against the wall of it and sucking harsh hickeys into his neck, working him up right there.

They crash into their flat, nearly forgetting to shut the door behind them until Michael toes it shut and they stumble down the hallway, Luke having to trust Michael’s grip to keep him upright as he wrestles his shirt over his head. He’s having a bit of a hard time and Michael kissing at his chest, using teeth and tongue to create marks on his skin, isn’t helping at all. He stumbles backwards into the wall directly beside their bedroom door, miscalculating the angle he needs to actually get through the door, and after an afternoon of experimenting a few weeks back, it was firmly established that wall sex was way too much work to be worth it.

“You’re an idiot,” Michael mumbles as he pulls Luke’s shirt off his wrist, where it had gotten caught on one of his bracelets.

“Don’t make fun of me, just get over here fuck me,” he groans as Michael’s teeth graze over his nipple.

“Who were you talking to earlier?” Michael asks, a teasing lilt to his voice.

Luke groans again, tipping his head back.

“Who was it?”

“I don’t care, just get over here.”

Michael chuckles and pulls away, pushing him gently into the bedroom and onto the bed. Luke lies down and watches Michael climb over him, kiss down his chest and at every mark on his chest, his cock already straining in his jeans as Michael bites at his hip, making him whine.

“On your front,” Michael says as he tugs his jeans and boxers down in one go.

Luke flips over, biting his lip and listening as Michael opened the lube and spread some onto his fingers. He shuts his eyes and tries to rely on his hearing for when Michael’s finger will press inside him, but he can’t and it’s still a shock. It feels amazing and he moans, burying his face in the blankets.

“Fuck,” Luke mumbles into the blankets as Michael pumps his finger in and out of him slowly.

“What’s that?” Michael asks, chuckling softly and sliding a second finger in.

Luke moans again and thanks every deity for his health so he can feel Michael’s fingers inside him rather than the throes of nausea he’d be experiencing if he’d had a recurrence. “Feels good,” he murmurs.

“Damn right,” Michael chuckles and Luke snorts out a laugh before he crooks his fingers and his laugh cracks into another moan.

Luke grips the sheets, Michael’s free hand holding his hip steady while he presses his fingers deeper and Luke groans. It isn’t like they haven’t been essentially fucking at every available opportunity since January but every time there’s still something new to discover about each other’s bodies. They’re still puzzling out what they like during actual sex and how to ask for things and tell each other that isn’t what they want. They’re still learning and every time is better than the last.

Michael slides a third finger in and Luke whines, pushing his hips back to meet it and Michael chuckles. “A little eager, are we?” He teases softly, kissing the shell of Luke’s ear from behind.

“Need you,” Luke breathes out, his cock trapped between his torso and the mattress and he just wants to rut against the sheets but Michael’s hand is holding him still.

“Yeah?” Michael asks, slowing down his fingers until they were motionless inside him.

Luke groans in frustration. “Mikey, please, please.”

“Please what?” He pushes his fingers in deeper and Luke moans, his fingers millimetres away from his prostate.

“Stop fucking around and just fuck me.”

Luke feels Michael pull his fingers away and a small kiss on the small of his back Luke’s and he swears he catches a whisper of ‘anything for you’ before the crinkling of a condom being torn open and the sound of his own panting drowns it out. His breath hitches when Michael presses against him, bringing his hips up so he was more on his hands and knees than lying down. He sort of regrets his new position when Michael pushes into him and he lets out an absolutely _obscene_ moan, no doubt audible to their downstairs and upstairs neighbours and probably most of their floor.

If his face wasn’t already flushed, that certainly would have done it.

Michael is staying still and Luke brings his hand up to cover his mouth, his words coming out muffled. “Can you just hurry up so I can forget that happened?” His only thought is Mrs. Barker down the hall and it isn’t doing anything but turning him off.

Michael chuckles as he stays persistently still for a few moments and he starts slow, rolling languidly into him and for all the world the only metaphor Luke has for it is the ocean waves. It doesn’t last long, though, with their breaths quiet and Luke letting his front fall so he could muffle his moans in the bed again, and Michael picks up speed, pushing harder and faster into him. Luke grips the sheets, grabbing at them with such desperation he worries he’ll break one of the nails he purposefully leaves long to help count out coins.

“I can’t even see your face,” Michael pants, the breath in his exhales catching into small gasping moans. “But I know you look gorgeous and wrecked for me.”

Luke whimpers, reaches down to his cock and strokes it, apathetic to the fact he can hardly breathe with his face shoved into the sheets like this but he’s already had Mrs. Barker from down the hall come knock on their door to chastise them for being too loud. She’d given them a filthy look and fiddled with the cross on her chest for the entire encounter, which sounds like it would’ve been humorous to anyone but the two of them, post-coital and Michael with come obvious in his hair.

Michael rolls his hips and the head of his cock finds Luke’s prostate, finally, and he cries out, his hand falling from his cock so he doesn’t come right then and there.

Michael leans down, kissing at his neck. “You sound so pretty when you do that,” he whispers. “So, so fucking gorgeous and you’re all mine.”

Luke moans, his stomach tightening down low and he’s never had it come on so fast and so strong before. “Fuck, I’m going to come,” he says, his voice tight in an effort to not just end this right then and there.

“Yeah, come for me,” Michael breathes, thrusting harder and trying to keep that rhythm, though it starts getting sloppier and sloppier.

Knowing that he’s affected Michael that much is sort of what tips him over the edge because the fact that he’s found sexy is sexy in itself, and he comes with a cry, doing his best to bite down on his lip to muffle it and getting partially favourable results. He feels Michael come as well and breathes out a soft, affectionate noise shutting his eyes as he listens to Michael moan, no amount of mattress or sheets to muffle him.

Luke collapses on his front the moment Michael pulls out, catching his breath while Michael clears the lube and wrapper from the bed and sheds the condom, collapses beside him, and leans over for a peck on the forehead.

“I love you,” he whispers, his hand on his back already tracing swirling, ponderous shapes on his back. Luke fixates on the feeling for a minute while he catches his breath, waiting for his brain to reboot itself and remember how he’s supposed to form sentences. In his focusing on Michael’s finger, he catches the pattern emerging into letters, then words that spell out _Michael Gordon_ , followed by a brief pause before _Hemmings_ is traced almost reverently into Luke’s back, making him smile.

“I love you too, dork,” he whispers. “Felt that, by the way.”

“Damn,” Michael chuckles quietly. “I was hoping you wouldn’t.”

Luke snickers back. “You’re a cutie, Michael Gordon Hemmings.”

Michael’s cheeks visibly turn pink and he hides his flushed smile by bringing his arm up to cover his face.

Luke leans over and kisses his forehead. “It’s a lovely name,” he whispers.

“Thank you,” Michael says, his voice soft and quiet and bashful.

“Get some sleep, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i need to pull a bit of a lemony snicket here and warn you all that part two is depressing as hell. i don't want to spoil anything but if you want to believe that michael and luke are happy and live together and stay together, then i will not be at all offended if you decide to stop reading here. please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	34. 22 730 302m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, once again, this is the start of part two. if you'd like to believe that everything is hunky dory with their lives, then please stop reading here. if you'd like to believe they grow old together, please stop reading here. also, i got an ask from someone asking me to spoil the fic for them for mental health reasons and if you'd like the same thing then i am very happy to do that for you or answer any questions but it must be done on my tumblr so it's private. thank you! also, enjoy this chapter, i think it's the longest so far...

In the middle of August, Luke finds out one of Michael’s favourite bands is coming to Sydney at the end of October. He uses his Saturday morning to wake up before ten and get them a pair of floor seats to the show (which sets him back a little in his plans to buy Michael’s ring within the next week but it’ll be more than worth it to see his _face_.)

He decides that since Michael surprised him with a fancy dinner on his nineteenth birthday that the tickets are an early birthday present, not like October thirtieth is that far from November twentieth.

Honestly, he’s still going end up tearing his hear out trying to find another present in November, but Michael doesn’t need to know that.

Luke tells Michael about the tickets and the reaction he gets is the cutest thing _ever_ and Michael blares the band’s music for the rest of the day, dancing around like a dork.

“Mikey,” he reminds him, “if you keep that up you’re going to be sore as hell after your shift tonight and you know it.”

Michael just laughs and pulls him in, mumbling something that sounds suspiciously like, “I have the best boyfriend ever.”

On the second Saturday of October, Luke is finally able to buy Michael’s ring. It takes literal _hours,_ but he figures that since he’s the only reason their cupboards even had Crunchy Nut Clusters in the first place that the box would be safely hidden in the bottom.

With the plan coming together, he does a bit of poking around and finds that someone had posted a set list of the band’s tour and, like all their shows, it had the soppy romantic middle before the big finale and then an even bigger encore. Luke has caught Michael humming one of the romantic songs, caught him singing it and been on the receiving end of his voice when he’s upset, and maybe it’s cheesy (okay, maybe it’s one of the cheesiest things he’s ever done) but he’s sort of planning on proposing during that song. And if there’s one thing the internet has taught him, it’s that if you’re going to go sappy you might as well go “Inspirational Facebook Viral Video” levels of sappy.

He runs it by Michael over breakfast, opting for instant oatmeal instead of his usual cereal because he’d be damned if he had to make an excuse for buying a new box before the old one was finished _on top_ of transferring the ring without Michael getting suspicious. He doesn’t mention the specific song or anything, just the idea of a public proposal, on the off chance that it wouldn’t be cool.

“Proposing to me in public, huh?” Michael quips over his spoonful of soggy All Bran. “With you in charge, it sounds like something that’ll make middle aged mums everywhere cry happy tears.”

He was grinning into his bowl though, and Luke takes it as a green light to his idea.

Luke knows he’s sappy as a tree in Canada but Michael is giving his cereal honest to God heart eyes, and Luke is struck again by how much he loves this man. Even his weird habit of putting sugar on All Bran.

He spends the weekend giddy, but the following Monday he wakes up dizzy and he has to cut his shower short and he has to sit on the edge of the tub for a good two minutes before he can even think about standing up.

He’s breathless, even when he walks slowly to his class he can’t get there and sit down without panting like he’s just run a block. He’s weak, he’s tired and he has a hard time believing that this is just going to be a cold like last time, especially when it’s been a week and his nose still isn’t runny and he doesn’t have a cough, just a headache.

He takes comfort in the fact that he has a doctor’s appointment on Thursday and he’ll find out if he’s actually just got another shitty cold, perhaps intensified by the fact his immune system is still recovering from chemotherapy. He tries not to give any of this away to Michael but he, of course, notices that Luke’s having a hard time getting out of bed and he’s dizzy and weak and he actually threw up the other night. He puts the last one down to food poisoning or something and he hopes the entire thing is just some case of lingering food poisoning like worms or something. Something that can be treated with a prescription of antibiotics and not months of chemo and needles and another round of losing his hair.

Michael notices, though, because of course he does. “We could get a good price for those tickets,” he reminds him on Monday night. Luke threw up again just an hour ago and was currently vegging out on the couch with ginger ale and saltines, wondering how he could still be dizzy when he’s half-lying down.

“Babe, they’re your favourite band,” Luke says, his speech a little slower because he has to focus on them and not the spinning in his head. “They’ve never come here before and like, they might never again. This is a huge opportunity and I have something special planned.”

Michael picks up his legs and sits on the cushion they were occupying before letting him put his feet in his lap. “You’re not well, you should rest. I’ll take Calum or something.”

“Mikey, I’ll be fine by tomorrow night, okay?” Luke assures him, sighing and taking another sip of ginger ale. “I was fine last time I felt crappy so it’s probably just another cold starting up and my body’s still fucked from chemo.”

“I hate to be a pessimist but…” Michael pauses, obviously not wanting to point out the obvious possibility. “What if it _isn’t_? What if you’re sick again?”

Mood well and truly soured, Luke levels a glare at Michael’s head, ignoring the fuzziness at the edges of his vision. “That wasn’t like this at all. I’ve thrown up a couple times and I never did the last time I was sick.”

Michael doesn’t even look close to convinced, and Luke isn’t really confident either, but cancel on proposing to his boyfriend? Like hell cancer would stop him. He’d kicked its ass and it was _not. Coming. Back._

Even considering the possibility felt dangerously close to admitting defeat, bringing back all sorts of memories that he’d managed to bury.

“But what if that’s something totally unrelated and you’re sick again?”

Michael’s second outburst should make him angrier, would if the blackness didn’t choose right then to advance until he was seeing the world through a pinhole.

“It didn’t feel like this,” Luke sighs, utterly drained. “I have a doctor’s appointment on Thursday so we’ll find out then, okay? Until then just – just try and stay calm, yeah?”

Michael is quiet, watching him with a vaguely pissed off, vaguely hurt expression that makes Luke feel sort of bad as he gets up, taking his ginger ale with him and trying his hardest to keep his balance as he goes down the hall.

He curls up in bed and tries reading to take his mind off how incredibly panicked he is about being wrong. It takes a lot of energy to be angry, but he uses the last of it to buffer those thoughts away.

Luke gives himself a paper cut since his copy of the book is so new that the paper was still sharp on the side, not worn down like most his books are from hours of page-flipping. He reaches over to the bedside table and grabs a tissue, wrapping his index finger with it and holding it there while he reads.

Reading with the added challenge of ignoring his nausea, his anxiety and the bright sting of the paper cut isn’t the most relaxing thing, and he gives up after a while to check if he can throw out the tissue and finds that no, he can’t, because his finger is still bleeding, red beads of blood welling up from the cut in seconds. He sighs and wraps it up again, still pointedly not thinking about how leukemia often affects blood counts and platelets, how the cells responsible for repair were sometimes scarily low in quantity.

They end up making up that night and curling up together to sleep, Luke finding that it came easier than he’d thought it would what with so much of his brain focused on _not thinking about it._

 

Michael refuses to feel worried sick when Luke is pale and cool to the touch the next morning. He refuses to be worried when he can hardly stand up and he refuses to be worried when he catches him trying to discreetly take a couple of painkillers. He refuses to be worried about it because he doesn’t want to instigate another fight on the day of the concert and the day that Luke has alluded to be the day he proposes.

He does his best to be excited, and he is, he really is. He’s excited because this is his favourite band and this is his favourite boy and he’s going to have a good night.

They catch the bus down to the venue in an attempt to avoid bad traffic upon leaving later and so they don’t have to waste a ridiculous amount on parking. It’s a bit of a bad idea, though, because Luke is panting all through their short three-minute walk and it doesn’t get any better until they find their seats and he buys an overpriced water bottle. He gets better after that, though, lively and animated and happy even though he’s still a little pale and not one hundred percent. It makes Michael confident that Luke might be getting better, that this was just some virus that he wasn’t used to seeing because usually people just fight it off before it presents itself, that Luke was right and it was just his body reacting in strange ways because his immune system was still fucked up.

Luke is good through the opening acts, though a little reserved and not having as much fun as some of the people around them, though Michael thinks that’s probably normal seeing as neither of them are really fans of the openers and are cheering for the sake of being polite. Luke dances with Michael, laughing and looking for all the world one hundred percent well again when the main act takes the stage. They hold hands as they dance and it’s fun, mindless, a break from the worrying he’s been doing for the past few weeks and he couldn’t be more pleased for it.

It’s all good until the songs start slowing down and Michael wraps his arm around Luke’s waist, taking a break from dancing like an idiot to just listen to the music with his boy and sing along at the top of his voice without caring that he isn’t reaching the notes and that he doesn’t even really sound good. It’s perfect, actually, until Luke is trying to tell Michael something over the loud music and Michael can’t hear him.

“What’s that?” He asks, leaning over to try and hear him better and squeezing his hip.

Luke is still too quiet to be heard over the music.

“Speak up, babe! I can’t hear you,” Michael says, chuckling a little.

Luke slumps against him, going completely limp and Michael has to work to keep him upright, warning bells immediately going off that something is wrong. When he looks down at him, his eyes are shut and his face is ashen, even in the purplish lighting and he lowers him down to his seat carefully.

 _Fuck_.

They’re at the end of the row and a security guard walks over to them, concerned.

“Everything all right?” She asks, her accent Japanese and Michael, in the beginnings of a screaming and clawing panic attack and over the music, can hardly hear her.

“I don’t, I think – no,” he answers, completely unsure what to do now.

“Has he had anything to drink tonight?” She asks, having to repeat herself for Michael’s clarity.

“No, no,” he says. “I think he’s sick. I – I have to call an ambulance.”

It’s all a blur, after that, of her reassuring him and Luke being loaded onto a stretcher by a few onsite first aid people and Michael being given a bottle of water. He gets a lot of stares from the other concertgoers and the lead singer of his favourite band mentions the incident, assuring everyone that Luke (he doesn’t mention him by name) was just fine and it was being dealt with.

From the first aid tent Michael wasn’t aware existed, they call an ambulance and do regular first aid things, though they can’t identify his reason for fainting and they can’t find any signs of injury. Michael thinks that’s a positive sign but he isn’t sure.

Upon showing the EMTs his ID, proving that he’s over eighteen, Michael is allowed to sit in the front of the ambulance, clutching his still unopened complementary bottle of water. He’s directed to the waiting room after that and from there, a nurse hands him a form to fill out, thinking that he’s the one here seeking emergency care and he explains to her about Luke.

Michael sits in the waiting room, his water bottle now a safety blanket of sorts while he waited for news and worried.

Luke hadn’t fainted when he was fifteen but he’d come close to it a couple of times. That time in the stairwell where they’d had to intercept Jack came to mind. Luke was weak, too, and dizzy and those two things could never be a good combination.

 _Dizziness also causes nausea_ , he thinks before he can stop himself, _with his immune system already compromised it would be harder on him this time._

The idea sends a wave of hot and cold fear through him, and the water sloshes in its container as he shivers.

Michael taps his foot anxiously, awaiting the presence of any doctor to come and tell him that he could see Luke and he could take Luke home and Luke was just fine, he just had some weird case of food poisoning that had left him with symptoms eerily congruent to the symptoms of leukemia.

He doesn’t want Luke to be sick again.

He wishes there were some beautiful way to phrase it to make the statement more poignant and heartbreaking but there isn’t. He simply just does not want Luke to be sick again, and not even for selfish reasons like it would mean he wouldn’t get to see him as often. He doesn’t want Luke to be sick because he doesn’t want him to have to go through everything again, to be in a place where he admitted he might rather die than have to repeat. He doesn’t want any chance of losing Luke, whether it be to suicide since he doesn’t even want to fight or from the illness he already fought so hard.

That train of thought sends Michael pondering the use of the word “fought” in regards to cancer and going through treatment. It isn’t like the illness is a corporeal thing that the patient wakes up to everyday and physically beats the shit out of. (He wishes, if it were, then he and Luke could have some kind of Tyler/Unnamed Narrator deal. First rule: Don’t talk about Fight Club. Second rule: don’t think about your boyfriend/maybe fiancé getting leukemia again. He thinks he might be a bit hysterical right now.)

It isn’t like the final boss in a video game, where you watch both your health bars deteriorate at the top of the screen and they’re within a sliver of each other and the next hit to either of you is fatal. It isn’t like that and he’s still wondering what other words might be better suited to describe the gruelling journey he’d watched Luke go through, the warzone that was cancer treatment.

Once he’s done with that thought, he drifts on to how much he doesn’t want to be here right now. A check of the time tells him that his favourite band is probably finishing the show right now and they’ll rush off before coming back on for a mindblowing encore. He knows it isn’t Luke’s fault that he fainted, that he might be sick again, and even if he’d been tested before today for anything, they wouldn’t have gone anyway. He knows there’s no blame to lay but he still feels like it isn’t fair.

Despite Michael’s aching for a doctor to appear and let him see Luke or let him know how Luke is doing, he’s still struck with a lightning bolt of anxiety when one appears and goes over to him.

He starts shaking again and he still finds it hard to stand up and he wonders if this is how Luke felt before he passed out.

“You’re Mr. Hemmings’ friend, I assume?” The doctor asks, shaking his hand.

Michael nods, too nervous to correct her. “Michael,” he says.

“Lovely to meet you,” she says. “Anyway, we’re aware Mr. Hemmings has suffered from acute lymphoblastic leukemia in the past and that’s our current guess as to what caused his fainting episode.”

Michael’s stomach lurches and he wonders if he’ll be sick, all over this doctor’s expensive shoes and her slacks and her lab coat. He doesn’t know what to do.

“We’ve taken blood for testing and we’ve taken bone marrow samples to test,” she explains. “We also did a lumbar puncture in case it’s penetrated his central nervous system. But, of course, we’re not even sure if this is a recurrence yet.”

“Can I see him?” Michael asks. “Can he come home?”

She smiles at him in that sad, fond way that his mother might before telling him they were all out of peanut butter and he couldn’t have a peanut butter banana sandwich. “He can’t go home tonight,” she says. “But yes, you can see him. He’s in room seventy three.”

Michael nods and thanks her, considering staying for a little longer in the waiting room just to let it sink in that Luke is probably sick again. He stands up, despite his knees shaking underneath his weight, and walks down the hall to room seventy three, opening the door.

Luke was on the bed, wearing some ridiculous hospital thing underneath the blankets, which came up to about his waist. His hair was disheveled, no longer done up the way he liked it with way too much product, if Michael was being completely honest, and he was pale and holding a cup of water, his thumb tracing over the condensation on the outside. He looks up at Michael, a smile with zero conviction appearing on his lips.

“Hey,” Michael says softly, pulling up the chair as close to the bed as he’s comfortable and taking his hand. It’s cold and his fingers are a little wet from holding the water.

“Hi,” Luke mumbles. He can’t meet Michael’s eye.

“You okay?”

Luke shakes his head, the tiniest movement and it kind of breaks his heart. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Michael says softly because it is. It has to be.

Luke shakes his head again. “I should’ve listened to you, I shouldn’t have been so stubborn.”

Michael squeezes his hand. “Well, you didn’t and it doesn’t matter now what you should or shouldn’t have done. We can’t change it and we’re here now.”

Luke is quiet, spinning his little cup of water against his leg and Michael doesn’t know how to help or comfort him when he feels like he’s at the end of his rope, feeling like he could burst into tears with the smallest provocation.

“I’m really not mad at you or anything,” he assures him. “You couldn’t help fainting and if I’d just listened to you then you might have not fainted. And honestly, it’s no big deal that I didn’t get to see the whole show. We’ll see them in America when we go. They tour there all the time and-”

“I was going to propose,” Luke mumbles, still not looking at him.

Michael is cut short and _oh_. That’s why Luke was so insistent they go. He had suspected, when Luke had asked how he’d feel about a public proposal, but the fact that stupid _cancer_ had ruined _yet another thing_ that should’ve been Luke’s.

It takes all he has not to lean over and put his fist through the plaster.

“I had a little speech all planned out and I was going to do it during your favourite song and literally we were one song away and I fainted,” Luke says, his frustration obvious.

“Luke,” he whispers. If his heart wasn’t broken earlier, it is now, splintering apart as he realizes how good tonight was supposed to be and how badly it ended up. It was supposed to end with Michael wondering how to tell his parents and Calum and Ashton, not with both of them wondering if they’ll have to tell everyone that Luke had a recurrence.

“The ring’s in that bag,” Luke mumbles, nodding in the direction of a clear bag on the table a few feet away. Inside were Luke’s black skinny jeans with the frayed holes in the knees and the t-shirt he spent twenty-five dollars on, his spare change, his phone and a circular object Michael identifies as his ring.

Room seventy three of a hospital shouldn’t be the first time he sees his engagement ring.

“Will you grab it for me?” Luke asks. “It kind of ruins the point of trying to conceal it until I actually ask you but I still feel dizzy.”

Michael stands up and grabs the bag, fishing the ring out among the spare change and the few notes. He grabs his phone as well, mostly so he doesn’t spend the entire walk back to Luke staring at the ring, and he hands them both to him.

“I really wish I wasn’t proposing in a hospital room,” Luke says softly, fiddling with the ring. “You deserve better than a proposal in a hospital.”

Shortly after he realized he was gay, Michael’s perception of gender roles in a proposal shifted. From a young age, he was taught that he would be the one spending money on a ring and getting down on one knee but after realizing he was gay, he considered that that might not be what happens. And once he’d realized that, he realized that he might cry during his proposal and he promised himself, thirteen years old and not knowing the person proposing to him one day would be his best friend, that he wouldn’t cry. He’d always thought crying during a proposal or a wedding was kind of counterintuitive; it was supposed to be a happy time.

Instead he’s getting his proposal with the looming threat of Luke – of Luke not making it. If he was in a book he supposes that he’d describe it like the shadows in the room are Death’s cloak or something, but the lights are bright enough to chase any away to the corner under Luke’s bed and there’re photos of bright flowers in the halls and down the hall he can hear a family cheering loudly about a baby girl before the nurses shush them. The moment isn’t dark and gloomy but the future is so obviously delicate, and he’s breaking his promise to himself and there’s a big lump in his throat.

“But it’s kind of my only choice right now since they won’t let me go home and I promised myself I’d do it tonight,” Luke goes on. “And like I said, I had this big romantic speech all planned out where I’d make the most eloquent proposal speech full of poignant, flowing sentences that would be so beautiful _you’d_ be swooning like a chick in a bodice-ripper. Then I went and fainted and they gave the good drugs for the spinal tap so my memory – well, my entire head, really – is a little fuzzy.”

Michael laughs softly, more of a choked off gargle than anything as he tries to not cry.

Luke gives him a small smile as he takes a breath to continue. “So forgive me for giving you a mediocre proposal.”

“It’s from you,” Michael says softly, forcing himself to speak. “It’s from you so it’s perfect.”

“You’re only saying that so I ask you,” Luke teases. This is one of those moments where Michael finally understands the meaning of the word ‘strength’ in regards to sick people. Luke is fighting past his admitted dizziness and the fog of narcotics to bring Michael a good night and a good proposal.

“Maybe,” Michael chuckles, doing his best to ignore the ache in his chest.

Luke chuckles, taking a breath before starting again. “Anyway. This December, we’ll have known each other for nine years. You were the first friend I made after moving and I was terrified to move because I didn’t want to be alone and friendless. You invited me over to draw with your sidewalk chalk, and my mum got so mad when I got the dust on our new couch. You’re my best friend and you’ve always been here for me, even when I was sick and there isn’t a day where I doubt if you love me.”

Michael can’t tear his gaze away from Luke, even though he so badly wants to look down at the ground so Luke won’t see the tears in his eyes.

“Every cheesy thing in the world advises you to marry your best friend and, yeah, that might be the best choice there is,” Luke says softly. “There is no one I’d rather spend the rest of my life with than you, Mikey.”

He quickly wipes the tears away from under his eyes. “Just ask, please,” he whispers. “I’m turning into a mess.”

“One last thing,” Luke murmurs. “I might be sick again and if you say yes tonight, I won’t hold anything against you if you change your mind when the results come back tomorrow morning. If you want to run away and just be friends, I get it.”

Michael shakes his head, pulling himself together enough to make a joke about it. “I stayed before – and through your long hair phase, I’ll stay again.”

Luke smiles a little wider at the attempt. “Don’t promise me anything until you know,” he says softly, finally presenting him the ring. It was dark silver and not the chunky, ‘masculine’ type rings Michael’s searches for a ring had brought up. It had a single, small embedded diamond and it’s fucking gorgeous. “Will you marry me?”

The lump in his throat has grown a hundredfold and he can’t speak past it for fear he’ll just outright sob. This was supposed to happen on the dusty floor of the arena, with Luke on one knee and neither of them worried that his fainting spell and everything else were signs of a recurrence. This was supposed to happen in the darkness of a concert where Luke wouldn’t be able to see Michael cry and he could finish crying before the lights came up enough. This was supposed to happen while Michael heard his favourite song live for the very first time. Instead, it was happening with Luke in a hospital with samples of his blood and his bone marrow and his cerebrospinal fluids off with doctors who knew what it all meant, with fluorescent lights making it obvious Michael was crying and with the buzzing of the lights and the sounds of the hospital as their soundtrack.

It should’ve been different and that’s why Michael can’t force out the word ‘yes’ and all he can do is nod as the tears finally start to fall down his cheeks. It’s obvious Luke is having a hard time keeping it together as well as he takes Michael’s hand and slides the ring onto his fourth finger, Michael having to cover his mouth with his right hand to hold back the sobs threatening to escape his lips, bracing on the bedrail with his left so he doesn’t fall to his knees.

It’s an hour later, after they’ve both finished crying and they’re cuddling in Luke’s bed, his head on Michael’s chest. They’ve been chatting about nothing for the past hour, trying to take their minds off everything with mindless blather and kissing to get rid of the terror in their chests. It’s shitty, though, when a nurse comes in to check on Luke and kicks Michael off the bed before telling him visiting hours ended in fifteen minutes. He spends the next fifteen minutes holding Luke’s hand and telling him that whatever happens, he loves him.

His walk home is lonely and cold and all Michael can think about is the pack of cigarettes he’s been hiding in his backpack for forever, since his last one ran out and he was too pessimistic to think there would never be a day where he wasn’t so upset he needed a smoke. It wasn’t like he did it regularly or anything and he didn’t even finish his last pack, a few of the cigarettes broke before he had a chance to smoke them.

When Michael gets home to the empty flat, which isn’t full of them doing renditions of the songs played at the concert but is silent with only the sounds of traffic, he calls Calum and flops down on the couch. He didn’t expect that leaving the flat today might be one of the last times Luke left their flat.

Calum answers with a grin evident in his voice. “Hey, man, congrats.”

Michael is confused until he remembers the weight of the ring on his finger. “Oh, right, yeah,” he says softly. “Thanks.”

“Oh, shit, did you say no? Did something happen?”

“No, I said yes. But, yeah, something happened.”

“Oh Jesus, what?”

“Luke didn’t feel well, for like the past week and I was worried about tonight but he was really insistent. And everything was really good until the middle of their set and he fainted and his doctor thinks he might’ve had a recurrence.”

Calum is quiet for a while and Michael shuts his eyes. He really wants a smoke. “Michael, oh my God, Michael, I’m so sorry.”

“We’ll be okay,” Michael says, a little desperately. “We don’t know for sure yet. It might be some weird cold or something since, like, chemo has long term effects and stuff.”

“Yeah, Ashton’s had a cold for a month,” Calum sighs. They both know the results are coming back positive, but Michael appreciates the attempt. “But seriously, I’m really sorry.”

Michael nods and shuts his eyes.

“Do you want me to come over? I’m not that far away, I can be there soon.”

He nods without thinking about it before remembering he’s on the phone when Calum huffs into the receiver. “Yeah.” He really doesn’t want to sleep alone.

“I’ll have to leave pretty early for soccer practice but yeah, I’ll be there soon, okay? Just make yourself tea or something and I’ll be there in fifteen, twenty minutes tops.”

“Okay,” Michael whispers. “Thank you.”

They hang up and Michael goes about making himself tea, even though he’s nearly forgotten how he likes it because Luke makes it for him so often. If he has to be up earlier, he’ll leave a mug with the right amount of milk and sugar in the bottom and he’ll leave the teapot steeping for him on the counter, covered with the tea cosy that Calum’s mum made for him as a housewarming present. He’s forgotten that he only likes a splash of milk and two sugars but he remembers as he does it.

He nearly drops the carton of milk when he realizes that this is what he might have to do for the rest of forever. Luke might not make it this time because it was never as good the second time around and if he’d had a recurrence then he might not make it. He might actually die and he might never come home to their flat and they might never fall asleep in their bed again in their flat.

Michael carefully sets it on the counter and watches the milk slowly mix into the tea, making a nice amber colour and he lowers himself to the kitchen floor. It’s only separated from the living room with the change from laminate to carpet and he leans back against one of the cupboards. His sob tears out of him and echoes around the empty flat like a clap of thunder might and he bows his head, pulling his knees to his chest and feeling like a child as he started to outright sob and cry, terrified.

He doesn’t want Luke to die and he wishes there was more he could do, wishes that he had any interest in science so he could be a hematologist or an oncologist and fix Luke, fix people like Luke. He wishes he didn’t have to be so helpless, just the boyfriend – fiancé – on the sidelines cheering for a good outcome when the chances weren’t in their favour. He wishes Luke had never gotten sick in the first place. He wishes a lot of things but like that stupid cancer movie that came out last summer repeated, the world was not a wish-granting factory. At the time, when he’d watched it with a friend of his, he’d rolled his eyes, forgetting how much it hurt to be begging the chemotherapy to work and begging everything, anything, to work.

He’s still crying on the kitchen floor, feeling pathetic, when Calum knocks and then tries the door, Michael too caught up in his own tears to get up and get the door, too upset to stand, and Calum opens it easily because Michael forgot to lock it.

“Hey,” Calum says, voice soft and soothing as he goes over to him and sits in front of him, probably half on laminate and half on carpet. “Hey, it’s okay. It’ll be okay. We don’t know for sure yet if he’s sick, don’t worry.”

Michael curls into his chest the moment Calum opens his arms and it feels nice. It feels like being a kid again and being upset that his parents didn’t love each other anymore and being a teenager and being worried that this was the end of his relationship with Luke even though it wasn’t. It feels nice but it isn’t Luke and it feels like he’s wearing the wrong person’s clothes that have all relaxed to fit them better than it fits him.

Calum brushes at his hair and holds him, convincing him to drink his tea before coaxing him into the shower despite Michael’s illogical worrying that Luke’s results will come through now. He gets him into pajamas, which is a weird feeling because he’s mostly been sleeping in either boxers or naked with Luke. They curl up in bed together and it still isn’t Luke and he’s unreasonably bothered by that, even though there’s a good reason and Luke wouldn’t have the care he needs here. He’s still frustrated and he has a hard time falling asleep but he does way after midnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	35. 17 643 614m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> recommended listening for this chapter is northern downpour by panic! at the disco. i'd do that lyrics thing i did with previous chapters but there are too many pertinent lines so, recommended listening instead.

Luke calling his mum goes about as well as he expected. He was calling late and she was worried right off the bat and she demanded to know what the doctors thought. He had to be honest with her and it upset her, almost made her cry and Luke felt bad. She promised to come down first thing tomorrow morning since she was too tired to drive and he guesses she won’t sleep well but he also guesses it’s a better idea to have the night alone and not have someone there. If he speaks his fears enough, he’ll just panic and then the doctors will be worried about that.

He manages a few hours of sleep among all the nurses coming into check him; obviously their second thought while they waited for the test results was that he had a head injury he hadn’t actually told them about. And that’s kind of bullshit because he had a fucking interrogation about everything he’s done in the last month, every health complication he’s had and every shit he’s taken and then on top of that, family history.

Luke manages a few hours of sleep and he wakes up with a knot of anxiety in his stomach. It turns out he has to wait until lunchtime for his hematologist to actually review the results and translate them from whatever weird medical code they were in now. So he sits there, he paces his room until he feels too dizzy, and tries to ignore the voice in his head that already knew it was back.

His mum gets there before they give him the results and they sit in silence, remembering the last time they were here, holding hands and terrified about what it would mean. They knew now what it would mean and Luke knew what every chemotherapy drug they gave him would do to him but he’s still terrified. His chances aren’t as good this time and he just wants to live to see his twentieth birthday, his wedding day and the day he becomes a father. He wants to travel and leukemia means that he can’t do any of that until he’s well again. It means he’ll miss his exams for this semester and he’ll have to retake the entire thing next year or try his best and take the supplementary exams.

The results, as Luke expected, are not very good. They indicate, as his doctor told him with a solemn face, that he’s had a recurrence and that it had invaded his central nervous system. Because of course it couldn’t just stay in his blood like before. His own bones are betraying him and – that’s not a train of thought he can afford to have. Luke does his best to listen to the doctor, pulling out his anger to buffer again while he cuts off his earlier thoughts ruthlessly. They give him a prescription for steroids, telling him to come back in a few days to start remission induction therapy and send him home.

They’re very sensitive about it and with that consideration, and his rage, he manages to delay his crying until he’s in the passenger seat of his mum’s car on the way home, holding the scrawled prescription in his hands and asking her to stop by the pharmacy. He breaks down when she goes into fill it herself while they’re parked in the middle of a strip mall parking lot and there’s young mothers and their small children running errands and old people taking their time and using walkers and canes.

Luke realizes, watching them, that he might never have that. He may never have to deal with grey hair or walkers or canes and the eventual degradation of his joints. He might never have to deal with arthritis and losing his hair because of age and he might never have to deal with old age. He just gets the thousands of prescriptions that keep his body from failing and that’s what he gets. He gets the medical aspect of old age, the hospital stays and the drugs.

That’s the thing that cracks his control and makes him cry, burying his face in his arms right there in his mum’s blue sedan as he waits for her to come back.

“They said to come back in about an hour,” she says when she gets in.

Luke sniffles, the sound wet and gross and he feels gross. He wants to get into his bed, preferably with Michael, and sleep until he’s well again and he can continue on with life as normal.

“Oh, honey,” she soothes, reaching over and touching his shoulder, rubbing his back. It feels just like it did when he was little and he was upset about someone not including him in their playground games and he wishes for that to be the worst of his problems, wishes he could go to playground-aged-him and tell him to treasure the ever-loving hell out of the next few years.

“I don’t want to be sick,” Luke mumbles, wiping at his cheeks. “I just want to marry Michael and have a family with him one day and I don’t want to be sick and I really don’t want to die.”

“Baby, you won’t die,” she says softly, her own voice becoming high and strained with the effort of not showing her son how affected she was.

“I might,” he says quietly and he regrets it because his mum sniffles. “I don’t want to have to tell Michael. I just want to be normal.”

She touches his cheek, his chin, making him look at her. He feels kind of ridiculous. He’s nineteen for God’s sake and here he is, being babied by his mother who’s half a foot shorter than him. “I know, love. And you will be again once you’re done treatment. They’ll fix you again and you’ll be just fine, I promise you.”

He sniffles and wipes at his nose. “I just want to sleep.”

“Then let’s get you home, okay?”

He nods and they drive home.

The worst part of it all, Luke thinks when he’s curled up in bed after a while, is the fact it hurts everyone around him. He wishes there were a way to pause the world so he could get better and take all the time he needs without having to tell Michael or hurt Michael and his family and everyone else. He wishes that he wasn’t sick so he could live normally and so everyone else could as well. He just doesn’t want to hurt people because a recurrence meant that his cause of death wasn’t down to accidents and suicide but it was now down to his own bones pumping poison into him.

Luke curls up after sending Michael a text and falls asleep.

 

Michael knows it’s bad when he comes home to find Liz on her phone beside Luke, who was eating a plate of instant rice while curled up in a blanket. He knows it means bad news but he just says hi to Liz and gets himself dinner and clears up Luke’s plate for him with a kiss pressed to his cheek. It’s normal for a few minutes and Michael can have selective blindness to the fact Luke’s skin is pale and he looks like he’s been crying. Liz demands to see his ring and they recount the story of the proposal, cutting out the sad parts and making it out like they were both crying out of adoration for each other instead of fear that Luke had relapsed and frustration that it was supposed to happen elsewhere.

Liz leaves and Michael tries not to notice the prescription bottle, trying to blend in behind their kettle but the bright orange hue of the bottle kind of gave it away against the black of the kettle. They go to bed shortly after and Michael pulls Luke close, the both of them cuddled up under the blanket and Michael buries his face in Luke’s hair. He’s had a hard day of being at school and work and not knowing and waiting for everything to end so he could go home and spend time with Luke.

“So tell me what the diagnosis is,” Michael murmurs, even though his heart is pounding and he doesn’t want to know.

Luke kisses his head and takes a breath. “It’s back.”

Michael shuts his eyes tight and nods, pulling Luke in tighter. He’s filled with disappointment that it’s back and that nothing is going to be the same and that he might lose the most important person in his life.

“I’m sorry,” Luke whispers, his voice strained and on the verge of tears and Michael’s heart snaps, his eyes aching with the threat of tears but he knows he can’t cry because Luke sounds so pathetic.

“Baby,” he whispers, kissing Luke’s head and trying to memorize the scent of his hair. It’s only been back for a year or so and he’s losing it again. It’s so unfair.

“I’m sorry, I know it’ll be hard for you too and I didn’t want it to be back and I just wanted things to be normal for us.”

Michael can’t look at him for fear the sight of his face covered in tears will send him spiralling into sobs as well. He kisses his head and holds onto him and promises him he’s okay.

“I get it if you want to leave,” Luke sniffles eventually. “The ring was cheap, it won’t be any hassle to sell and we can just be friends. God knows I won’t be here much anymore.”

“No,” Michael says softly. “I said yes to you and my answer is still yes. Til death do us part and all that.”

“We aren’t married. You should think about it, babe, please, I don’t -”

“I have thought about it. When we were fifteen and this happened for the first time. I thought about it then and I made the same choice then. I don’t have to think about it now. You’re my fiancé and I would rather be with you through everything as your fiancé than with you as your friend.”

“Michael, please.” Luke looks shattered, and that meant it was time to put on his Big Boy pants and be the strong one. He did his crying the night before.

“Luke Hemmings,” he says softly, sternly. “I am not going to leave you. I’m not leaving you because there’s no point and I’m so in love. ‘Just being friends’ is a _terrible_ idea, and I’m not having it for a second, you hear me? We are _already_ best friends and if you take the relationship out of it, it’s the exact same that it always is, with way less kissing and way more frustration.”

Luke sniffles and Michael can feel him pull his arm up between them to wipe at his eyes. “Okay. I just, like, I know my libido is going to go to shit again and I don’t want to like, ruin your young adult life. You’re young and you’re going to want to do things and I just won’t be able to do that for maybe a long time.”

“So?” Michael asks, kissing his forehead. “I’ve got my hands, we’ve got a shower and I’ve got enough memories of us together to tide me over. You don’t have an obligation or anything to have sex with me, that’s not part of it. I’ll be fine without sex for the rest of my life if I have to.”

Luke nods. “I love you. Thank you.”

“Of course, I love you too. Now get some rest. You have to talk to the university tomorrow don’t you?”

He nods again. “Yeah.”

Michael kisses his hair, soothes his hand over the back. “Get some rest.”

Luke nods and he’s asleep in seconds.

Michael hasn’t showered today and he pulls away carefully, getting a soft grumble out of Luke in response as he goes to the bathroom for a shower. He didn’t want to cry in front of Luke. He didn’t want to make him feel worse about relapsing when he already felt bad about it and apologized. He apologized for being sick.

Michael shuts the door, flicks the lock on the handle and starts to undress. They hadn’t had sex in a while because Luke hadn’t been feeling well and they’d both been overwhelmed by school and work but he can still feel the exact places that Luke’s fingers would brush against. Over his stomach, the small pocket of pudginess that hadn’t gone away when he grew half a foot, against his hips and then back up over his shoulders and arms, perennially boyish and lanky. He can feel the places Luke’s lips would land, on his neck, over his collarbone and his jaw and then pause on his heart, linger to feel his heartbeat.

It isn’t really something that should make him so upset but he didn’t know that the last time they had sex with Luke would be their last. He just thought it was any other day and a new experience where they were learning about each other and he thought that their sex would keep growing and getting better, not plateau so suddenly because Luke was sick again.

He doesn’t want to feel the ghost of Luke’s fingertips and he doesn’t want to think about the word ghost and he gets in the shower and has it lukewarm while he leans against the slippery shower wall, already damp from the spray of the shower, and breaks down. He didn’t want to cry in front of Luke because he didn’t want to make him feel worse about all when Luke is the one _suffering from cancer_ so he saved it until he was in the shower, his sobs muffled under the sound of water running through the pipes and the spray of water.

Michael knows that while Luke is sick, he has to stay positive. He can still have issues of his own and he can still talk about them but he can’t even think for a moment that anything will happen other than Luke going through another _shitty_ bout of _shitty_ chemo for months and then he’ll get better. He’ll get a bone marrow transplant this time or they’ll do a different cocktail of drugs and it’ll work even better. Luke’s health after this will be immaculate until they’re both 88.15 years old with a family to put Molly Weasley to shame.

For his sanity, he has to hold onto that. But for now, he just lets himself break down against the shower wall, sob until he can’t catch his breath and has to sit down at the bottom of the tub, the water coming out of their weak showerhead cold by the time it hits his shoulders, and take deep breaths until he isn’t worried that Luke will find him dead in the morning. For now, he lets himself think worst case scenario in which the doctors tell them that something isn’t working and Luke’s illness will never go away.

Michael pulls himself up off the shower floor and goes about washing his hair with the cheapest kind he could find which was probably expediting the fade of his hair dye. He’d have to get more soon. He gets out, limbs heavy from the weight of it all, and wraps himself up in a towel. It’s comforting because his towel is warmer than the water of the shower was and it feels like when he was little and his mum would drape the towel over his shoulders and scrub a towel on his head to dry it off a bit. He wishes he were a little kid again so he wouldn’t have to deal with the severity of Luke’s sickness and so he wouldn’t have to deal with it on top of university and his job. He wishes he were younger so he could tell himself to date Luke now, to kiss him the minute he discovered he was completely head over heels for Luke. He wishes he hadn’t wasted so much time, especially now that their time might be running out.

He pulls on a pair of flannel bottoms which are fraying around the ankles and climbs into bed beside Luke, treasuring these last few nights he gets to spend with him in bed.

 

Luke wakes up too early in the morning when the sun hasn’t been able to do much more than lighten the sky from inky black to a dark grey. Michael’s shift isn’t until the evening and Luke is pretty sure he doesn’t have class until ten and their alarm clock reads, with a glance over his shoulder, six in the morning.

It’s way too early to be awake but he doesn’t particularly want to get out of bed because it means standing up and that will mean the dizziness will hit him like a slap in the face. He tries to doze for a while but it doesn’t work. Apparently the fatigue of having cancer isn’t applying to him at this moment and it’s vexing, irritation a prickle on the nape of his neck. He’s sick, he should be able to sleep whenever he damn well wants.

He watches the sunrise from his bed, a little too warm under the blankets (which makes him wonder about a fever) and with Michael breathing evenly next to him. He turns himself to watch Michael sleep for a little while and tries not to be scared shitless that the number of days in which to watch his fiancé sleep is counting down from a much smaller total than he had hoped for. He looks away from Michael’s face, which is admittedly a little weird because of how slack it is, and down at his hand, on top of their duvet, brandishing the ring.

It isn’t really that expensive, or even all that nice but he knows his grandparents eloped with a twenty-seven dollar ring and that his parents spent less than a thousand dollars on a ring. He wonders if the Hemmings men are just cheap and then wonders if Michael’s ring is actually diamond or if it’s just plastic that someone’s gone to a lot of effort to make look like diamond. He wonders if it’s just glass after all because what difference is there between the reflective and refractive powers of diamonds and glass? Cut right, glass could pass for diamond on any day where there aren’t people with those magnifying glasses on call. Diamonds are just like broken glass, the little cubes of that expensive safety stuff that he sees on the side of the road sometimes after someone’s smashed through a car window, glittering in the sun.

His last thought sends him into a spiral of thoughts, the metaphor resonating through him, and since he has nothing better to do for the next few hours until he’s supposed to go to his literature lecture he absently considers the diamond/glass metaphor. He wonders if it says anything about the human condition, him saying that diamonds are just like broken bits of glass, the only real difference between the two is that diamonds are nicely stacked carbon while glass is melted sand, he starts to ponder the way that people value one type of clear rock more than another type. But immediately as he starts thinking about it, he stops himself.

God, less than twenty-four hours and he’s already acting like a pretentious ass.

He snorts at the ridiculousness of it all and turns back to the clock.

He breathes out a quick “huh” when he sees that his little fake-deep pity party killed almost a full hour.

With the time nearing seven, Luke admits defeat and gets up despite having nothing to actually do, but at least seven is a normal time to wake up, sort of. After he finally resolves to join the world, he spends a good five minutes actually getting out of bed. It’s tiring and it makes him sweat and standing up straight makes him dizzy. He wonders if his doctors will give him a walker or a wheelchair this time, just to make him feel like he’s actually made it to old age.

Maybe he can get one of those disability tags for their car? Parking at the store has been a pain in the ass forever, and it’d be _immediately_ satisfying to stare at that thirty year old bubble-gum bitch who steals the handicapped spot every other day to pick up her _darling son_ from work or whatever in the eye as he hobbles to the door.

Huffing out a short laugh at her imagined face, he pushes on to start his damn morning like a functional human being.

Luke gets his phone off the couch on his way to the kitchen, which is honestly just three steps, still managing to be two and a half too far, and leans against the counter, no energy to hoist himself to sit on top of it. He wonders what he’ll eat for breakfast as he gets the kettle going for some tea to swallow the steroids with, and checks his phone while he waits for the water to boil.

 _Hope all’s well. Sending love to u and Michael from Richmond <3_, is from Ashton and according to his notifications there’s a missed call from his dad and three texts from him and his mum each. Luke decides to reply to Ashton first.

 _All’s not well but I won’t burden you with that. Hope you have a good day_ , he sends, trying not to think of the real, pure love that Ashton will give him through this again, while he sits in pretty remission. He doesn’t to risk the bout of jealousy that that’d bring along.

He listens to the message his dad sent, which was tearful and hard to listen to before he replies to all the texts, reassuring them that he’ll check himself into the hospital when he’s supposed to and he’ll swallow the pills he has to. He makes himself tea and a single scrambled egg and toast with vegemite to take his pills with and curls up on the couch. It’s not even eight in the morning yet and he’s run out of things to do. After being out and being busy to the point where the minutes he got to sit and breathe and watch Netflix was a blessing, it’s strange having nothing to do.

Luke thinks he might have homework but there’s no point in doing it if he’s going to be in the hospital for the next month or so. Just as he’s thinking of doing it anyway, his phone buzzes against his leg, a long buzz to signal a call. He answers it right away.

“Hey,” he says without checking the caller ID. No point, really.

“Hey, man,” Ashton says. He sounds like he just woke up. “What’s wrong? Did Michael turn down your proposal?”

Luke is struck by how far behind Ashton is. “No, no,” he reassures quietly. He doesn’t want to do this. “He said yes. It’s just… I don’t really want to worry you or anything. You’ve got Calum to worry about and work and university and your siblings and, yeah. Don’t worry about me, okay?”

“I swear to God, Luke Hemmings, if you’re lying to me and you’re planning on doing something to yourself, I will worry so fucking hard.”

“No, I’m – Ashton, please,” he’s sort of begging and it feels weird but he doesn’t want to worry him.

“Luke, I’m twenty years old, I can decide if I want to be worried by something and you’re one of my best friends and I’m already worried that you’re not telling me. Just tell me or I’ll speed my ass down there and probably get ticketed and maybe even die. Do you want that?” There’s a bit of a joking tone, trying to diffuse the tension and make things better.

Luke sighs and picks at a thread on the couch. “No,” he mumbles. “Okay.”

“Thank you.”

He explains it, leaving out the part like he did with Michael where the leukemia has invaded (literally the word his doctor used) his central nervous system and it meant he had a worse prognosis. He explains he had a recurrence and by Friday, he would be in the hospital with a needle in his chest again to pump him full of enough drugs that his leukemia would be destroyed. But he makes it seem like he was okay, like they knew he’d do fine and that his body was better equipped to handle it now that he wasn’t pubescent and there was no longer the issue of how badly it would affect his growth.

“God,” Ashton breathes when Luke is done and he can hear the pain and the pity in his voice. “God, I am – fuck. I’m so sorry, Luke, holy shit.”

“It’s okay,” Luke whispers, focusing on gauging his reactions and making it seem like he was unaffected again. He doesn’t want everyone worrying about his mental health and talking to his doctors about it behind his back. He just wanted to do this and get better.

Ashton is quiet for a minute and Luke can hear him breathing, drawing deep breaths and he can see him, tense and biting his lip and clenching his firsts. It makes him feel bad.

“I’ve got class, uh, fuck, now, but I’ll be there later, okay?”

“You don’t have to, really. My mum’s probably coming down again and so will Ben and dad so you don’t have to. I won’t be like, alone or wanting people.”

“If you just want to have family then just tell me, okay? I get out of class in about two hours so just text me sometime before then but I get it if it’s a family thing,” Ashton says. Luke can hear him opening drawers.

“No, feel free to come down. It’ll be nice getting someone who isn’t family and it’s been a while since we saw each other.”

Ashton hums. “I’ve to get dressed, but I’ll see you later. I love you bucketloads.”

“I love you too,” Luke smiles a little, glad Ashton still has humour.

They hang up and Luke pulls his laptop close, resigned to a morning of Netflix and an afternoon of spending time with his family.

 

Michael spends half his class texting Luke, getting a play-by-play on his parents’ and Ben’s reactions to him. He’s sympathetic and sends probably a million hearts in the span of an hour. Luke’s texts come with less frequency after he tells him Ashton is there and he sounds a little less frustrated with everything when he remembers to text. Michael gets through class and work, even though it’s hard and he spends every break he has checking his phone for a text from Luke and replying to them.

He knows it’s a bad sign when he’s on the bus home and his phone hasn’t buzzed in an hour and a half. He sends a text to Liz and then another to Ben when she hasn’t replied after five minutes, worrying that something’s happened but telling himself they were probably just watching a movie together or maybe Luke had fallen asleep. He takes the stairs after he has to wait more than two seconds for the elevator and gets to his flat, fumbling his keys with shaky and sweaty fingers. He drops them twice on his way to the door.

When Michael enters his flat, he finds it strange to see Ashton sitting on his couch, doing schoolwork and holding his phone. His heart drops to his chest and the entire world comes apart in a single second as he worries that Luke is gone.

“Where’s Luke?” He asks immediately. He’s sweaty from basically running up the stairs after a long, busy shift.

Ashton looks up at him and immediately tucks his lips into his mouth, looking worried. Michael’s heart stops and the world is falling apart. “He’s at the hospital.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay okay i really love cliffhangers and i don't ever really get a chance to do them because i usually just post my works as oneshots so i'm very sorry that you have to wait until thursday, i really am, but think of knowing as your christmas present from me to you? please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	36. 17 384 414m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow so i completely forgot to update this yesterday that's the first time that's happened i'm very sorry for any delay! merry christmas tho and happy holidays, i apologize for some of the medical inaccuracy in this chapter i could only find one source for this so it probably doesn't actually happen. anyway, enjoy!

Michael lowers himself onto the couch beside him. “What happened?”

“He had a seizure,” Ashton says softly, taking his hand.

“What?” He asks, feeling like he was punched in the gut.

“He’s fine,” Ashton assures him, squeezing his hand tight. “He’s fine, he’s just in the hospital and they’re starting him on chemo a little early.”

He lets his breath out and nods, reminding himself to breathe. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?” He whispers.

“Liz knew you were at work and we don’t want you to worry all the way through your shift,” Ashton says, rubbing his shoulder.

Michael puts his head in his hands. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he’s fine. I was just here to make sure you knew. I’ve been dying to go and see him.”

He nods and leans into Ashton. “You’re driving. I’m not taking the bus again.”

They get to the hospital in just over ten minutes and spend a few minutes arguing with a nurse about whether or not they know Luke, which is bullshit, because, _hello_ , he’s his goddamn _fiancé_ and he is seconds away from waving the ring in her face when Andy comes out and confirms that yes, they’re allowed to come in to see him.

It’s like a punch in the gut to see Luke, though. He’s got a needle in his chest again and he’s curled up with a beanie and Michael wonders if his hair is gone again. When he walks in, Ben looks up from his phone and Liz squeezes Luke’s hand before letting it go and giving up the seat right next to Luke’s bed. He gives her a hug before he sits and she, Ben and Andy all go to get food and coffee, leaving Ashton and Michael alone with Luke.

He opens his eyes and he’s pale, his usual bright shine dimmed down to an ashen dusk. “Hi,” he says softly as Ashton sits next to Michael. He reaches both hands out and Michael takes one while Ashton takes the other.

“Hi, love,” Michael whispers, giving his hand a squeeze. “How do you feel?”

“Like I’m going to be sick,” Luke mumbles, shutting his eyes.

Michael leans over and kisses his head. “You’re so brave, I love you so much.”

Luke just nods and Michael would feel offended if he didn’t know that he was fighting nearly unbearable nausea.

“Have they given you anything to help it?” Ashton asks softly.

He nods again and Michael watches his arm tense as he squeezes Ashton’s hand. He’s got beautiful arms.

“How long ago?” Ashton asks.

Luke opens his eyes and looks at the clock, wincing as he moved. “Like, an hour ago?”

“You should ask for more,” he advises. “They don’t want you feeling like shit.”

Luke sighs and curls up towards their hands again. “Easier like this.”

Ashton stands up. “I’ll go grab a nurse for you, okay?”

Luke looks after him and then looks at Michael. He looks exhausted and sick again.

“You’ll feel better with more of them,” Michael soothes, taking the hand Ashton had been holding. His hands are a little dry and have a weird, sticky-ish feeling from the hand sanitizer a nurse made him use.

Luke nods, pulling him forward by his hands and holding them close to his chest, close enough that Michael’s fingers brushed the bandage over the line in his chest.

Michael chuckles and kisses his head. “So what happened?”

He sighs. “I felt okay one second and the next thing I knew, I was on the floor and Ben was asking me who the prime minister is and what my name is and what day it is.”

He nods and squeezes his hands. “I was so worried when I got home.”

“I wanted to call you,” Luke whispers. “But mum said no because she didn’t want you to worry.”

“Well, your mum was right. I’d have run away from work in the middle of giving someone their food.”

Luke smiles at that. “You wouldn’t have. You’re a good boy, you leave your phone in the break room.”

“Oh, because you know that?” Michael teases. He’s trying to get Luke’s mind off his nausea and his discomfort.

“Yeah, because you never fucking text me back when you’re at work,” Luke teases back, giggling softly.

Michael wants so badly to continue their banter but Luke is adorable, a little bit of pink on his cheeks from laughing and Michael’s hands tucked into his chest. He’s so cute and beautiful and all he’s thinking is that he might not get to take his last name, they might not get a chance to get married and Luke might not live to see a day he can marry Michael. His smile wavers and he squeezes Luke’s hands. “You’re pretty,” he whispers instead of voicing his fear.

Luke notices, of course, because they’ve spent the last nine years of their lives attached at the hip. “You’re prettier,” he counters. “Are you going to dye your hair orange for me again?”

“Maybe,” Michael smiles. His roots were starting to show, anyway. “I’ll talk to my boss about it.”

Luke nods and smiles. “You look good with orange hair.”

Michael kisses his forehead and his chest is still tight. He needs a minute and he needs air. “I’ll be right back, okay? I’m dying of hunger.”

He takes a second and lets that settle, wanting to smack himself upside the head because insensitive, much?

Luke’s mouth twitches despite himself though, and he makes a small hand-wave. “Go eat, health before me,” he says, going for imperious, only falling short because of his exhaustion.

Michael stands and presses another kiss into the side of his head, his lips connecting with the fabric of his beanie and he misses Luke’s hair already, not that it’s anyone’s fault but… he misses what Luke having hair represents.  

He heads to the door, nearly walking into Ashton and a nurse and breathes a quiet sigh of relief that Luke won’t be alone while he’s going to ‘eat’ (his stomach is in knots; he’ll probably have a coffee and maybe some sort of pastry).

The tightness in his chest has increased now that he’s letting the pain be felt, letting his anxiety roll through him with every pump of his heart. He’s aching for a cigarette now but he’s trying to fight the urge and forget where he conveniently stashed his pack so Luke wouldn’t see it and get mad about him. He wonders if it makes him a bad boyfriend, hiding his only-in-emergencies habit from his boyfriend just so they wouldn’t fight about it or if it makes him a better boyfriend. He just wants to get rid of the obstruction in his chest with a good cry on his own in the bottom of the shower again but he couldn’t make his eyes sting.

Michael finds Liz sitting in one of the waiting rooms, clutching one of the Styrofoam cups, watching out the window in front of her. He doesn’t know where Andy and Ben are but he assumes they’re around somewhere and even though he’s sure of it, he sits down next to her anyway.

She looks at him and gives him a pleasant, fond smile. “Hi, love,” she says softly.

“Hi,” he murmurs. “You okay?”

Her smile turns sad and she glances down at her coffee. “I’m coping. Are you okay?”

He shrugs. “Yeah. I’m just worried about him.”

She nods, taking a sip of her coffee. “What are you scared of? The doctors are confident they can get him into remission again.”

Michael thinks that it sounds more like she’s talking to herself, but he doesn’t say anything about it. “I’m just scared I’m going to lose him, I guess,” he admits, regretting it immediately as her grip stiffens visibly on her cup. “Sorry.”

She shakes her head, giving him a bit of a watery smile, her eyes filling with tears and multiplying Michael’s guilt. “No,” she whispers. “It’s okay. We’re all scared about that.”

He wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her close. She’s been a second mother to him ever since it became obvious that Michael and Luke were best friends and nothing could separate them. “He’ll be just fine, though,” he promises quietly, feeling her arm wrap around his waist in that strong way that Michael had only ever felt with a mother.

She nods and sniffles. “He will. He’s a fighter.”

Michael nods, ignoring the tears in his eyes. It’s one thing to be upset himself; it’s a whole new thing to hear Liz upset and to try and put himself in her shoes. She has the same idiosyncrasies around not crying that Luke has, the same method of sniffling and clearing her throat and Michael just can’t imagine how hard this is for her, watching her youngest son get eviscerated by chemo.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles after a few minutes, pulling away and pulling a tissue out of her purse, dabbing at her eyes with it.

Michael keeps his hand on her back, rubbing a gentle circle. “It’s fine,” his voice breaks on the last word, tough, and that’s when everything crumbles.

The feeling in his chest splits him open all at once, explodes like a grenade and drenches his eyes with a sudden flood of tears and his breath hitches in his throat, hooking on the beginning of a sob. He bows his head and supports his forehead with his hand, his elbow pushing into his thigh, and one hand still strung behind Liz, balling into a fist. There are other people here who aren’t his family and that’s the second blow.

Liz wraps an arm around him and pulls him close, spluttering out a ‘love’ as she pulls him close and he doesn’t have the energy to hold back the flood of sobs and tears right now. She tries soothing him with gentle rubs on his back that makes him think of that night a few weeks ago, before Luke was sick, when he traced his surname into his back and they kissed and talked about getting married. She whispers encouragements to him and it reminds him of the night before their first exams in university, when Michael was upset because he didn’t feel prepared for his biology exam and Luke held him just like this and whispered little encouraging phrases to him.

It makes him wonder about how many times this happened when Luke was younger, when the only person left in the world to turn to was his mum. It makes him wonder about that time when they were sixteen and they had a fight that felt like the end and Michael turned to Calum and Luke was stranded. It makes him realize that he’s a little kid, even though he’s nearly nineteen years old, here crying on the woman who should be his mother-in-law.

His heart aching, he pulls away from Liz after a while and accepts one of the fresh, crumpled tissues from her bag, wiping at the evidence he was crying but knowing that it left marks of its own. Everything has consequences.

“Are you a bit better now?” Liz asks quietly, kissing his head.

Michael nods. “Yeah,” he sniffles. “I, uh, I cried on your shirt. I’m sorry.” He motions to the tear stains on her cardigan.

She smiles a little and shakes her head. “That’s fine. I’m going to go back to Luke now, will you be okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine, thanks.”

She kisses his head again, leaving him there with his crumpled tissue and the ache of the post-cry, with an old man staring at him and just a wish, a hope that Luke was going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	37. 15 186 670m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some warnings in this chapter for some death talk but i mean, there's kinda a lot of it from here on out.. woopsies. enjoy!

It’s worse the second time around.

He knows it will be, but he’s never prepared for just how shit chemo is. Because it’s in his nervous system, it means he gets chemo injected into his spine more often than just “regularly”, as a precaution to reduce his risk of it spreading there. It hurts worse the second time around too, even though he knows what to expect and it really isn’t drastically different. It feels so much worse and he doesn’t know why, though it might because they’re using stronger doses this time to encourage remission or something that like that; he thought it would be easier this time because he was older and his body was therefore more equipped to handle it, maybe. Maybe time numbed him to exactly how shit it was his first go around.

He doesn’t know, he isn’t a doctor.

Luke is tired all the time. His doctors are constantly waking him up to ask him about side effects and about how he feels and to tell him they were just giving him something else or telling him to roll onto his side so they could stick a needle into his spine. He’s sick more often, too, and they tell him it has more to do with the leukemia spreading to his brain than it does with the chemo, though it has quite a lot to do with the chemo, too. It’s just generally way shittier than he remembers it and he wonders if he just straight up suppressed those memories or something, despite very vividly remembering his third night in the hospital and staying up late into the night, hunched over a bedpan and heaving at the mere mention of food.

It’s a lot lonelier this time, too, even though both his parents get time off work and he can’t quite pinpoint why. Ben is around quite often since he’s not in school anymore and Michael usually stops by between work and school and after work or after school and he texts every available moment he can.

Maybe it’s ‘cause he’s engaged to Michael now, how they aren’t just a pair of boyfriends with big hopes and wide eyes, and that Michael is one of the people who is able to visit the least. Jack makes trips from his dorm to visit and he just wants to spend long, lazy days with Michael again.

Michael is there nearly all weekend, having bargained his hours down and called in all sorts of favours so they can spend time together and if Luke squints, he can sort of see what used to be between them; the two of them doing homework together and savouring the minutes before they had to get ready for work. If he just ignores the constant disgusting feeling and the fact he’s in a hospital, it’s easy to think that he and Michael are just at their flat, cuddling and sharing music.

Michael presses a kiss to his nose. The last time they actually kissed has to be about a week ago, since the onset of Luke’s vomiting and the increase of it since he started on chemo. He misses it but he doesn’t blame Michael when he can still taste the acidic bile in his throat.

“I’ll try and swing by tomorrow,” Michael promises. “I’ve got a long prac and I’ll probably have loads of homework by the time I’m done so I’ll do my very best, okay?”

Luke nods. “Okay,” he whispers. His emotions are out of whack – a side effect, he’s told, of having cancer – and it’s bothering him. He doesn’t want to feel this weepy and pissed at the same time.

Michael presses kisses all over his face, his hands cupping his jaw and Luke giggles quietly. “I love you,” he whispers, kissing him quickly, and it was really just a peck.

“I love you too,” Luke smiles. “Call me before you go to bed.”

“Of course. And maybe tonight you’ll be awake when I call,” he teases.

Luke pushes his face away, laughing softly. “Meanie.”

Michael takes his hands and leans down, pecking him again. “You love me.”

“No I don’t,” Luke murmurs, squeezing his hands. “Now go, before you get my car a ticket for staying parked too long.”

“Tell me you love me again,” Michael pouts.

“I love you,” Luke says softly. It’s getting late and Michael has to be up early for class tomorrow and Luke doesn’t want to keep him too long.

“I love you too,” Michael smiles. “I’ll call you, okay?”

Luke nods, kind of not wanting Michael to leave but also not wanting to drag out the goodbyes. It’s sort of a regular thing now and Luke thinks it’s stemming from Michael’s fear that Luke will just die but he knows he won’t. He’s read too many Google suggestions about what happens in the last days of life and he’s pretty sure that he’s not terminal and he thinks he of all people would know if he were about to die. He’s still lively and his eyes still have life and he isn’t going to die.

He’s not.

After he gets off the phone with Michael, hours later when his lights are off due to the stiflingly strict schedule of a hospital, he’s lonely again. It’s always there, underlying almost every conversation he has and making it hard to resume being social again in the morning when he wants to tell someone how he feels lonely and he knows he isn’t, shouldn’t be. But he’s already being fed enough antidepressants and he doesn’t want something as tacky as a therapist or a support group. He knows that the stigma he’s built around both is an aggregate of things he’s seen in the media and he knows that their portrayals were dramatized to show how the protagonist was suffering just so much, blah, blah, blah, but he’s got actual cancer, he doesn’t want to try and challenge his own internalized stigma or whatever right now. As it is, he’s the only patient in the oncology ward under twenty.

He wonders if that’s the cause of his loneliness, the lack of colourful, fun, bright things around like there was at Children’s hospital and the lack of other kids. When he was there and saw little kids far too small to be sporting bald heads and having lines in their chests, he felt like he had to set an example and be strong for them. Now that he’s the youngest, among plenty of terminally ill grandparents, he feels a little less hopeful.

Luke stares at his phone, his background a picture of Michael wearing one of his sweaters and making an absolutely adorable face. The sweater was a bit too big on him, stretched out from Luke’s broad shoulders and falling awkwardly over Michael’s more narrow frame. It reminds him just how much he loves him and how much he misses him as he shuts it off, blinking to adjust to the darkness of the room now his phone was off, and he lies down.

It’s late, he thinks, and he can hear normal hospital noise going on from the other side of his door. He wishes this was Children’s, still, and he was allowed one parent to stay with him at all times instead of a rule that all family visitors must leave before eleven, to reduce infection risk or something. Luke wishes there was a young adult hospital, just enough like Children’s that it was comfortable and full of people that were closer to his age so he felt less abandoned in a desolate hospital with plain paint and no bright primary colours. It was kind of condescending at the time but Luke thinks he would rather have a degree of condescension to his care than be treated like an adult when he still doesn’t feel like one.

He curls up under the blankets, cold despite the fact it was actually starting to get warm out, and shuts his eyes. He hates sleeping alone and he just wants Michael to somehow sneak into staying the night or something so he doesn’t have to. He misses his own bed too and wishes he could get all this care in his own flat or at home, with his parents or just anywhere but in the hospital, too clean and too white and too full of people more than twice his age.

Luke knows it won’t work but he could very well be dying and maybe in the years it’s taken him to get here, to this hospital bed, magic has become real. He taps his feet together, counting it out – _one two three_ – and he wishes he were in bed next to Michael and he squeezes his eyes shut. Every single cell in his body is aching to be beside him and he just _wants_ it so bad, he’s aching for it because it’s been nearly a week since he got to sleep in bed with Michael and he misses it. He misses curling up with him and their fingers in each other’s hair (not that he has any of that anymore) and tracing each other’s names into their skin.

He opens his eyes but he’s still in the same dark hospital room, the sliver of light from under the door making it obvious that the walls in this room are still plain and adorned with shitty attempts at homely artwork. He doesn’t know why, but it makes him tear up, makes his loneliness increase a hundredfold and he should really just call a nurse and tell them about how he feels and has been feeling and get his antidepressant intake increased. He rolls onto his other side, towards the window, through which he can see the city lights and he wants to go for a walk outside but he’d probably get pneumonia or he’d faint.

Luke guesses it’s probably a good thing that every cell in his body wasn’t able to work to take him somewhere else. He supposes they were probably all fighting to keep him alive.

In the morning, after he’s first woken up and his parents aren’t around yet, Michael calls him on Skype. He doesn’t have work until around lunchtime so he calls him while he makes breakfast, his messy hair hidden under an old Norwest beanie.

“Morning,” Luke says softly, rubbing his eyes. He feels just as tired as Michael looks but he knows he doesn’t look cuddly and warm like he looks.

“Morning,” Michael says, struggling to hold his phone and pour milk into his cereal at the same time.

“You can put your phone down, love, might be easier,” Luke suggests.

Michael shrugs, putting the milk back in the fridge and taking a bite of cereal. “Then I wouldn’t be able to see your cute face.”

Luke snorts.

“Hey, it’s true. Even if the drugs make your cheeks swell and they make you lose weight, you’re still the cutest.”

Luke doesn’t want to get into the talk of how his self-esteem has dropped since he’s been sick. He doesn’t want to talk about it because it isn’t like he hates his body whenever he’s sick, it’s just that it’s hard to love his body when it betrays him and it’s hard to get used to the changes it goes through so rapidly. He’d nearly just gotten back to a healthy weight where his ribs didn’t stick out like he was emaciated and his hips weren’t sharp enough to cut glass and now he was getting back to that. “You’re the cutest,” he shoots back. “End of discussion.”

Michael chuckles quietly as he takes another bite of cereal. “Bullshit,” he says around his mouthful.

“Oi, didn’t your mother teach you to never talk with your mouth full?”

“Yeah,” he says, smiling down at his bowl and getting another spoonful. “But I don’t really like authority.”

Luke rolls his eyes playfully. In moments like this, the pain is bearable and if he squints, he can almost see past the fact that he’s sick, like a mirage in the heat. “You’re like a kitten, babe, you’re not all tough like you really think you are.”

Michael bares his teeth once he’s swallowed and makes a little growling noise.

Luke laughs. “Nope, sorry, still a kitten.”

“You’re the worst ever,” Michael pouts.

“No, I’m not, I’m the best fiancé ever,” Luke says, grinning widely.

“Yeah, you are,” Michael admits. “Speaking of you, how do you feel?”

He shrugs. “I’m tired, I guess. I didn’t sleep very well. I miss sleeping in our bed with you.”

Michael nods. “I miss you too. Your family came by last night and your mum was all worried that you’d be lonely and she mentioned that bunny you had a lot the first time you were sick. The one I gave you? What happened to it?”

Luke laughs quietly. “It’s probably at home, honestly. Like, with my parents. Or it might be in one of the boxes under the bed. Are you going to look for it?”

“Yep,” Michael smiles. “It’ll probably help with your sleeping alone problem.”

“You could keep it, it probably still smells like me. What’ll you do?”

“I’ll get my own stuffed animal and spray it with your cologne or leave it in a bag with a few bars of your soap and then I’ll be fine.”

Luke laughs. “That’s so weird, you’re weird.”

“You love me, though,” Michael grins.

“I guess,” he sighs like it’s a hard thing to admit.

“When do visiting hours start?” Michael asks as he spoons straight milk into his mouth, slurping it like an asshole.

“Stop that,” Luke whines. “But they start at like, nine, I think? I’ll ask my nurse when he comes back.”

Michael nods before slurping his milk louder, staring right at his phone screen.

Luke groans. “You’re annoying, stop it.”

“I can be more annoying,” he challenges.

“I can hang up on you.”

Michael drops his spoon into his bowl and it clatters and there’s a small splashing noise. “What time’s it now? I want to know when I can see you.”

“You’re standing like, right next to the microwave and _one of us_ sets the time on it.”

Michael looks to the side. “Oh, it’s already nine. I’m going to shower and I’ll come up afterwards.”

Luke looks up as the door to his room opens and watches Ashton walk in, a slight limp and he watches him carefully, noting that the limp is on his right leg more than his left and tries not to worry. He has no energy to waste on worrying because all of it is supposed to be directed towards himself and fixing his goddamn blood. “I’ll see you when you get here, okay?” He says to Michael as Ashton takes a seat. “I love you.”

Michael nods. “Love you too.”

It takes them both a second to disconnect and Luke’s phone is hot near the bottom when he rests it on the table beside him, turning his attention to Ashton. “Morning,” he says. He’s sort of hoping Michael takes his time in the shower because Ashton doesn’t give him a big cheery grin like he normally does.

“Good morning,” Ashton says quietly.

“What’s wrong?” Luke asks. He can tell there’s something wrong and his first worry is Calum and he worries about how it’ll affect him and Michael or if it will at all.

Ashton sighs. “My leg hurts,” he says softly. “My right leg. And I’m really, really worried about it and I have a PET scan scheduled in an hour and I don’t want to know if it’s back.”

“You’ll be fine,” he reminds him. “You have great odds if it is back. It might just be a torn muscle or something. You and Calum seem to play soccer together a lot.”

“It’s been around for a few weeks now,” he says. “And I thought it was just stress about exams and it might be, like, some sort of ghost pain or something? I don’t know how to explain it but I’ve had it before where I think I’ve relapsed and then my PET scan comes around and it’s nothing and I’m actually fine and they tell me I’m fine and suggest I see a therapist or start taking anti-anxiety meds.”

Luke reaches for his hand and takes it. Ashton’s hands, which have been soft and warm whenever he’s held them before, are cold and rough. It makes him think of the difference between how he is now, reserved and quiet and worried, and how he usually is, bright and bubbly and the loudest one in the room. It makes him worry even more and he knows he should stop himself. “Look, it’s probably just the ghost pain, then,” he says softly. “And if it isn’t, then you’ll be fine. Your odds are fantastic and if you just have pain in your leg, that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

Ashton nods. “It might be other places, too, though. Apparently the best place for it to recur is the lungs, which makes no fucking sense, but whatever.”

(Nearly every other time Luke’s heard Ashton swear has been around a giggle, a bit squeaky from it, not bitten out like it just was.) “You don’t even know if it’s back yet.”

He stays quiet and doesn’t meet Luke’s eye, staring at their hands and gnawing at his lip.

“You’re going to be okay.”

“I don’t want to do this to Calum,” he whispers. “Or my mum and Harry and Lauren again. They were so worried last time and I don’t want to do it again.”

Luke thinks quickly how it isn’t really fair of him to say that to _him_ , who has no choice but to do it again since his recurrence. “No matter what happens, you’ll be fine. I promise. Calum will understand. He and Mikey can start a ‘my boyfriend has cancer’ club and they’ll be okay.”

Ashton cracks the smallest of smiles, his lips twitching up. “You think?”

“They’ve been best friends for like, twelve years or something. They’ll be just fine.”

“Think they’ll start a support group?” He jokes. “Something like _The Fault in our Stars_?”

Luke laughs and Ashton’s smile grows. “Nah, they’ll probably just get together at our flat over the summer and drink and rub it in our faces that we can’t.”

Ashton frowns. “Shit, I was looking forward to getting smashed this New Year’s.”

“So was I,” Luke admits. “Hey, so, Michael’s going to be here soon and I really have to take a shower so tell him I’m fine if he comes?”

“Yeah, of course,” he nods. “Now hurry up and shower. You stink.”

He snorts and heads to the small bathroom attached to his room, undressing and surveying his body in the mirror. He’s already dropped a few pounds and his hair is gone again. If he were any more muscular and perhaps more attractive and not declining into an unhealthy weight, maybe he could be one of those oiled-up models on magazines, their jeans slung just a centimetre above their cock. Maybe he’s better like this, though, too thin to be as broad as he is in the shoulders. It makes him look sort of like a Tim Burton character but he decides to ignore it and just get in the shower.

His shower, as always, makes him dizzy and he’s forever grateful that the shower is equipped for handicapped people and comes with a little chair he can rest on to catch his breath. He feels a little better afterwards though and thinks about when he got a cold when he was thirteen and spent nearly a week at home with it. He couldn’t shower out of lack of energy and fear that he would literally just faint in the shower, because wouldn’t _that_ be a shit way to go, and by the time he did shower it made him feel almost completely better. Maybe just taking care of himself with small things like that will work and he’ll get a second remission.

But maybe it won’t. Maybe he has to face it this time that he’s probably not going to make it, that his chances are worse. He’s been ignoring the wriggling fear for a long time, especially since he can remember late nights at Children’s curling up with his cell phone when he couldn’t sleep and learning that a recurrence meant worse chances.

He’s still sitting on the shower chair, feeling weird just sitting there, wet and growing rapidly colder but knowing he couldn’t stand up or he’d probably black out and he just really didn’t want Tess to find him naked and bleeding on the bathroom floor, watching the water swirl away down the drain. He feels like it should be a metaphor for something, that he should be able to see it.

God, Michael. He’ll be so pissed when Luke just doesn’t wake up one day. It leads him to wonder if he’ll even bother telling anyone that he’s dying or if he’ll pretend he’s on consolidation therapy just so they won’t worry. And then tragically, maybe he just won’t wake up.

Luke forces himself to stand and bear the absolutely horrible head-rush to get his mind off it, especially as he hears his phone buzz on the countertop of the bathroom. He dries himself off and dresses before sitting down on the lid of the toilet to check his phone.  The text is from his classmate, Jordan.

_Dude are u skipping class? I haven’t seen u around and Jeff just asked if ur dying. lol_

The message should probably upset him, especially considering what he was thinking a few minutes ago. Honestly, it’s just… he doesn’t have a word for what it is. It gives him perspective, though. What’s the point of only living to be upset about it? He might as well make an impression on everyone while he’s still around.

He pulls up the keyboard and types a response that represents all of the weight that leukemia is pressing down on him currently and before he thinks about it too hard, he hits send.

_Nah I’m not skipping but feel free to tell him that I am terminal lmao B)_

When Luke returns to his room, clad in sweatpants and a crewneck despite the fact summer was nearly upon them, Michael is sitting on the couch with Ashton, the two of them watching some video and laughing together. He curls up next to Michael and receives a kiss to his head, watching the end of the video with them even though he doesn’t really know what’s going on, though it is kind of funny.

Michael sets his phone down when it’s done and wraps an arm around Luke’s shoulders. “Your family’s here,” he says. “Jack came down.”

“Where are they?” He asks. He’s missed Jack’s constant nearness and his family is always a nice part of his day. It makes him feel like everything’s normal, almost.

“He had to run to the library to get a book for studying or something,” Michael shrugs. “And your parents are talking with your doctor,” Luke winces, “and Ben’s getting something to eat, I think. You okay?”

Luke nods and kisses his cheek. “Yeah. Just missed you lots.”

Michael smiles, laughing as Ashton made an over the top retching sound.

The rest of Luke’s day is good, his parents’ worry evened out with Jack being there for the first time and getting to catch up with him. He’s been working in Canberra and he hasn’t really seen him since his birthday and he gets to show off Michael’s ring, which leads to some teasing about how he’s the youngest but the first to get engaged. Ashton disappears shortly after his family fills the room and Luke worries about it, which makes him quiet and makes his family worry.

He knows their worry is just a reflection of how much they care about him, but it still sort of sucks.

Ashton comes back for a little while, a big bottle of water in his hand and stays for a while longer before encouraging Michael to study before he has work, and then he’s alone with his family again. It’s easier like this, a little calmer and he falls into a rhythm with his brothers, alternating between being teased and making conversation about how living on his own was. (If he’s honest, he kind of misses being able to wake up around noon every morning to his mum knocking on his door and telling him there was scrambled eggs for lunch. He kind of misses being a kid.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	38. 14 581 870m

Luke’s phone rings while he studies, bored in his hospital room with nothing to do but read his psychology textbook and wish he’d had the mind to bring a few books. Instead, he’d just had his brother shove clothes into his backpack, which still had most of his school books in it and he wishes he could’ve picked things out to bring. It was kind of good, anyway, that he’d brought his books with him to the hospital because they were trying to arrange for Luke to do his exams once he was released from the hospital and hopefully on consolidation therapy.

His phone rings – buzzes, really – next to him and he answers it without hesitation. It gets kind of lonely when his only company is nurses, most of whom are strict. “Hello?” He asks, remembering that he has no idea who’s called and thinking it’s probably some advertisement or scam.

“Hey,” Ashton breathes. “Hi.”

“Hey, what’s up?” Luke asks. “You should be studying, shouldn’t you?”

Ashton snorts derisively. “Seems kind of pointless.”

“What happened?” He knows Ashton is sarcastic but never in such a bleak way.

He sighs and Luke can almost see him deflate. “My PET scan results came back positive. It’s back.”

Luke thinks that there are two unbearably heartbreaking noises in this world: the sound of his mum crying and the defeated whisper in which Ashton spoke. He shuts his eyes tight and forgets everything he was just reading about the areas of the brain and their connection to psychology. “God, Ashton, I’m so sorry.”

He sniffles, high-pitched and an attempt to keep the floodgates closed.

Luke doesn’t know what to do and he just wants to make it better. “We’ll be hospital buddies again,” he says, trying to keep his tone light and maybe a little happier than he really is.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “At least I’ll have you.”

“Yeah. I’ll always be here for you, okay?”

Ashton is quiet for a minute, sniffling and taking a breath. “How do I tell Calum?”

“Same way you told me, kiddo,” he says softly. It’s strange that he called Ashton ‘kiddo’ since he’s a year older than him, but his brothers call him ‘kiddo’ and it always makes him feel better, strangely.

“But what if he cries? It’ll make me cry and I don’t want him to know how terrified I am.”

“Well, you’re telling me how terrified you are and I’m not your boyfriend.”

Ashton sniffles and takes a breath. “Okay,” he whispers.

“You’re going to be just fine,” Luke reminds him. “Just breathe, okay?”

He takes another set of deep breaths. “Okay,” he whispers. “Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he says softly. “I’m sure Calum will give you a great big hug when you see him next, so stop talking to me and go cuddle with your boy.”

“Okay. I’ll call you later.”

Luke hangs up and checks his phone for any other texts, hoping to find one from Michael but failing. He knows that it’s swot vac week and Michael is studying hard and he’s juggling his revision with work but he still misses the constant nearness. He was hoping that this year’s swot vac week would be full of post-proposal sex and studying together. He didn’t really want to spend it in a hospital bed with zero libido and _blood cancer_.

It doesn’t take much longer until he misses Michael a lot and no amount of Ben and Jack hanging around will fix it because even if they’re his brothers and he loves them to death, they aren’t his fiancé and it doesn’t feel like settling into home every time they put an arm around his shoulder. It doesn’t reduce that sickly malaise any less when they try and get his mind off how shitty he feels like Michael is able to do. His brothers are his brothers and Michael is Michael and they’re different and he misses seeing Michael all the time.

Luke obviously has too much time on his hands as he starts worrying Michael doesn’t want anything to do with him anymore, even though he knows it’s stupid and he’s been promised over and over again that that isn’t true. He can’t help it, though, every time he has to wait more than five minutes for a returned text and every time Michael can’t get on Skype. One of his nurses tells him, when she catches him frowning at his phone, that it’s natural for there to be distance and it’s natural to worry as well. She warns him, since she’s one of the amazing, above-and-beyond nurses, that if he continues to worry then they’ll put him on heavier anti-anxiety meds.

It’s been about a week since Ashton got admitted again and exams are in full swing, which is probably the reason for his lack of correspondence with Michael, who he knows leaves things to the last minute. When the nurse leaves, he takes her advice and goes for a walk to clear his head, remembering to rise slowly to quell dizziness and take shuffling, small steps. It makes him feel like a bit of an old man, shuffling down the hallways, past old people clutching at each other’s wrinkled hands and sporting bald heads. It’s marginally better than seeing little kids like that, with their parents putting on fake smiles, and it’s only because they’ve had a chance to live their lives instead of the three year olds who have attention spans of goldfish.

Ashton is curled up, a book spread over his good leg to keep the page while he sends a text. He’s taken to wearing bandanas again as he started on chemo because apparently hair loss only happened in a fraction of patients on the specific chemo drug he was on. (Luke suppresses jealousy because he still hates his bald head; he thinks it looks too strange and that his head is a weird shape.)

“Hey,” he says softly, taking a seat in one of the chairs. He usually opts for the couch and would if Ashton hadn’t kicked his legs up onto it.

He looks up from his phone, his eyes tired. “Hi,” he says. “All right?”

Luke nods. “I’m okay. Are you?”

Ashton sighs and Luke notes once again that he’s lost all his peppiness and the sunshine that usually radiates off him has gone away. “I mean, yeah, but not really.”

“You aren’t terminal or anything, are you?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Well, not yet, at any rate,” he amends. “They’re pretty sure I’ll get a second remission but, yeah.”

“Any news?” Luke asks. His chemo drugs had been reshuffled, a different cocktail since apparently the old one wasn’t working very well. It’s left him even more drained and sick than usual.

“They’re pretty sure that chemo isn’t working to shrink the tumour,” Ashton explains, glancing at his phone as it buzzed and chirped. “And it isn’t removable by surgery like last time.”

“What’s that mean?”

“They might have to amputate,” he mumbles, stretching and flexing the toes on his right foot. “They warned me about it so I’m prepared if I have to get it done. I just don’t want that.”

Luke nods and squeezes his shoulder, letting him take a second to respond to the text he’d gotten.

“Like, I just love playing soccer with Calum,” he says quietly. “And he’s so good and I don’t want to like, disappoint him.”

Luke thinks idly that at least his doctors are confident he’ll get a second remission while his have warned him that his chances are iffy. There’s a bigger chance than last time that it’ll be refractory and eventually he’ll succumb to his illness and the fact that there’s not enough healthy blood left in his veins to keep his body going. He tries not to think about it and tries to think that they’ve shuffled his meds and that at least counts for something and it means they’re trying.

“You won’t disappoint him,” he says after a beat of Ashton looking at him with wide, expectant eyes. “He’ll love you anyway.”

Ashton looks down at his leg, his fingers aimlessly brushing over his knee. “What if he doesn’t?”

Luke takes his hand. “He will. He adores you.”

He’s silent for a minute, squeezing Luke’s hand to tell him he’s heard. “You okay? Haven’t seen your boy around recently.”

“Yeah…” Luke sighs. “It’s probably just exams and stuff.”

Ashton nods, looking at him with a worried look, utterly unconvinced. “Yeah, true. You’ll be fine. Just make sure to call him and stuff.”

“I’m going to,” he says softly, resolving to call him as soon as he gets back to his room.

 

Michael has never been so stressed in his entire life. His fiancé is in the hospital and his treatment wasn’t working and he has work five days a week and now that Luke isn’t working, it’s getting harder to make ends meet. He has exams and studying and trying to work longer hours so he can actually pay for groceries and the electricity. He’s never had so many nights where he just collapses into bed, exhaustion coursing through him, only to lie awake for a few hours with his mind running at thousands of kilometres per hour.

Too stressed to do anything, Michael digs up his cigarettes and finds his lighter and goes out onto their tiny balcony, sliding down against the wall and letting his feet hang off under the small barrier as he pulls a cigarette from the pack and holds it between his lips to light it. He knows it’s bad and it makes him feel guilty the moment he takes his first drag but it gives him a minute to think and it feels good.

It’s quiet on the balcony and he can hear the traffic and the noise of Sydney below and it’s dark. He can see the city lights stretch on for an infinite amount of time and it’s coming up on summertime now but there’s this little bit of chill tonight. He’s thinking about how maybe he should get a sweater when his phone buzzes in his pocket, shocking him a little. He keeps the cigarette balanced between his lips as he extracts it and puts it to his ear, not checking who it is but having a good idea.

“Hello?” He asks, angling the phone away from his mouth as he exhales and watches the smoke curl out into the air.

“Hey,” Luke says softly. “How are you?”

Michael shrugs and taps the ash of his cigarette into an old Coke can. “I’m okay. Miss you. How are you?” He raises the cigarette to his lips and starts to take a drag.

“I miss you – what are you doing?” Luke asks, tone changing so quickly it made his head spin. That might also be the cigarette and the fact he hasn’t smoked in a while.

He quickly exhales the smoke. “Just sitting outside.”

“Are you smoking?” Luke asks, the soft tone from a few minutes ago completely gone.

He bites back the ‘no’ that froths up to his tongue because he just can’t lie.

Luke sighs. “God, I can’t believe you,” he bites out. “Like, you’re literally paying a company to give you cancer and it fucking sucks, Michael. I’m sick as fuck and I feel disgusting almost all the time and it isn’t fun and you’re paying so you can get cancer.”

Michael’s heard this talk before the first time Luke caught him smoking and he can’t help but sigh. He’s just too stressed and he doesn’t want to deal with this. He snubs it out in the Coke can, though. “It’s out. Sorry.”

“You’d better be. Like, it isn’t just fun and it kills you slowly and painfully and it sucks.”

“Anyway, what’d you call about?” Michael asks, the taste of the cigarette still fresh in his mouth and the unsmoked half of a cigarette still giving off smoke in the bottom of the can. He just wasted an entire cigarette there.

“Just that I miss you and I haven’t seen you in a while,” Luke says, not as quiet and soft and shy about it as he normally is.

Michael leans his head against the wall behind him. “Exams are almost over. I’ll see you more often after that.”

“Are you sure, though?” Luke asks, obviously still ticked off about the cigarette from the biting tone in his voice. “Like, if you actually don’t want to be with me I’d really rather you just fucking told me instead of tiptoeing around it and leaving me alone wondering if I’ve done something wrong. If I have, tell me. If you want to break up, tell me.”

He shouldn’t snap. He really, really shouldn’t, but he’s so stressed and this is just piling onto it. He hasn’t slept properly in weeks and he has exams – an English one tomorrow – and he can’t take this. “For fuck sake!” He says. “Not everything is about you and your fucking illness, Luke! I have work and I have to make ends meet and I have exams and I have you. I’m sorry that you aren’t top of my priorities right now but I’d kind of like to find a way to pay all the bills and rent and for food without working myself to death.”

“You don’t have to be such a dick about it,” Luke mumbles. “I feel like shit and I have too much time on my own and it’s been like four days since you sent me one of those dorky ‘good morning’ texts.”

“Forgive me for cramming for exams,” Michael spits. “I’d just really like to actually pass them since I don’t want to be expelled.”

“You could still at least send me a ‘good morning’ text or something. You don’t have to just drop off the face of the earth and call it studying.”

“It’s not just studying, it’s working as long hours as I can get and trying to just get on now that you aren’t around to help pay the bills. I’m sorry I’ve been stressed to the point where I can’t sleep and yet I’m too tired to call.”

Luke snorts. “Bullshit. Absolute bullshit.”

“Fucking stop,” Michael snaps. “Call me when you’re feeling less sorry for yourself.”

“Fuck you,” Luke says before the line goes dead.

Michael pulls the phone away from his ear, slamming on the button to turn his screen black. He wants to throw his phone off the balcony, lob it off into the night air until it smashed on the concrete in front of some poor, unsuspecting pedestrian. He nearly does until he remembers some news story about car wrecks and how there was a really bad one in Perth caused by someone tossing something off their balcony.

He does throw it inside, though, through the screen door that’s fallen off its track more than enough times and Michael is never able to fix it when it falls off but Luke can always do it on the first try. He listens to his phone smack into the wall with a dull thud before landing on the floor and slams the screen shut and that’s about when he gives up.

Michael sits down hard on the cold balcony floor, this time leaning against the barrier and staring into their dark, empty flat. It makes him lonely and it makes him think of how lively the flat was when they first moved in, how it was so freeing to be living on their own and now it just feels like a prison. When he was younger, Michael always thought that living completely on his own would be fun, the pinnacle of independence, but now that he’s living alone, he misses the presence of other people around him. He’d even go back home to his mum at this point, even though it’s too far from the hospital.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, his hand pawing around for his cigarettes as his eyes burn with tears. He told Luke he wouldn’t but that could be the end and he doesn’t want to lose him to the dissolution of their relationship.

Flicking his lighter, he cups his hand around it to protect the flame from the wind. His thumb isn’t catching it the right way and he keeps slipping off, just getting a little spark that does nothing to light the cigarette between his lips. After the fourth attempt, when the tears have started down his cheeks, he gives up again and sobs, the cigarette falling lamely to his lap and he tosses the lighter to the ground. It probably broke or something but he doesn’t care, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooh, drama... please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	39. 14 322 670m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy back-to-school everyone! have amazing times and please enjoy this chapter, it's a nice one. (slight warning for vomiting tho)

In the morning, Michael leaves his phone at home to take the English exam, which is difficult but he’s confident that he at least passed. When he gets home with an hour long layover between now and when his shift starts, he finds that he has three missed calls from Luke and a few texts and needless to say, he’s a little shocked about it. He clicks to the texts and they’re all variations of _please pick up_ and _I’m sorry please Michael_ and he doesn’t give himself time to think about it, just clicks the little call button and holds his phone to his ear.

“Hey,” Luke says softly upon picking up.

“Hi,” Michael says quietly, sitting on the couch and fiddling with the hem of his sweater.

“How was your exam?”

“It was okay. Kind of hard, but it was okay. I think I passed.”

“That’s good,” Luke says, pausing for a minute. “I’m sorry about last night. I was irrational and I was a huge dick about it and I shouldn’t have said a lot of what I said.”

“It’s okay,” Michael says softly. “I’m sorry too. I should have been a better boyfriend and texted you more often and I was a dick too.”

“I forgive you,” Luke murmurs, the smile audible in his voice.

Michael smiles a little, sinking back into the cushions. “From now on I’ll text you more, yeah? And you don’t have to worry about me leaving you. I never would.”

“It was just hard with the silence,” he admits quietly. “Like, maybe it’s just because Ashton was diagnosed so recently but I kept seeing him and Calum around. I guess it made me miss you.”

“Yeah,” Michael whispers. “But Calum doesn’t have a job. Pampered bastard.”

Luke chuckles. “You should come visit tonight. Or Skype or something.”

“I’ll tell you how I feel after work,” he promises. “But I’ll definitely come see you this weekend. And I won’t make the same stupid mistakes again.”

“Okay,” Luke smiles. “Tell me how you feel after work. I have to go, I’m pretty sure my nurse is coming in and I don’t want her to yell at me.”

“Charm the pants off her,” Michael chuckles. “I’ll see you later. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Michael takes a shower in preparation for work and by the time his shift is done, his breaks punctuated with hanging around in the kitchen reading from his biology textbook, his legs hurt and he can’t imagine driving all the way to the hospital and walking to Luke’s room. He texts him that they’ll Skype before he starts driving and on the way home, “Hey There Delilah” starts playing and Michael remembers his guitar is sitting in the closet.

When he gets home, he sits on their bed while he waits for Luke to answer his Skype call, making sure his guitar was in tune and scanning over the page of chords he’d opened for reference. He’d played “Hey There Delilah” a couple of times when he was in high school but it had been a while and he isn’t confident in his ability to play by ear.

Luke answers his call, a beanie pulled over his head and his t shirt hanging loose on his body. “Hey,” he says as Michael adjusts his guitar. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to serenade you,” Michael says matter-of-factly, smiling at him before going back to adjusting the strings of his guitar.

“Uhm,” Luke chuckles. “It better be PG-13 because a nurse could walk in at any moment and if you’re singing about my dick, I might get in trouble.”

“Oh, it’ll be appropriate, don’t worry,” he says, strumming the first D chord.

Luke chuckles a little, fiddling with his sleeve without anything else to do. “Do it, then.”

Michael clears his throat all dramatically. “So this is kind of improvised because I decided to do it in the car home,” he says like he’s a band member introducing his set. “But bear with me and I’ll try my best and hopefully you’ll fall in love with me even more.”

Luke watches, still sporting an endeared little smile.

Michael clicks over to the page of chords, strumming out the beginning to the song a little sloppily so he repeats it. It serves another purpose of letting him see Luke’s face absolutely light up when he realizes what the song is.

“Are you really?” He asks.

Michael nods silently, starting to sing. “Hey there, Luke Hemmings, what’s it like in your hospital room?” He has to push to fit his revised words into a rhythm that matches. “I’m really not that far away but boy tonight you look so pretty, yes you do. Sydney Harbour couldn’t shine as bright as you, I swear it’s true.”

It’s a little hard to glance at the chords on the screen and pay half a mind to the little thumbnail of Luke in the corner and sing at the same time, but Michael manages it and by the end of it, they’re both grinning like absolute idiots and Luke gives him a little round of applause.

“That was the cheesiest thing in the entire world,” Luke says, his face being split into two by his smile. “But it was so sweet, too and you have the world’s best singing voice and I love you a lot. And also, my hospital room is kind of empty and lonely, but I’m okay.”

Michael chuckles, resting his guitar on the bed next to him. “I love you too and my singing voice really isn’t that great. You’re just nice.”

Luke shakes his head, pulling his bunny close and Michael doesn’t know when he got it, but he’s glad that he did. “You’ve got the nicest singing voice and I want you to come up and visit soon so you can sing me to sleep.”

“What if your family’s there?”

“It’s not like they’ve never head me belting “Holiday” at the top of my voice and missing like, every note. Your melodic angel voice would be a welcome change for them.”

Michael laughs. “Well, fine, thank you, then.”

Luke beams at his success. “Well, you’re very welcome, then.”

Michael flops down onto his side, still in his work clothes but too tired to care. He curls up with his laptop and spends the rest of the night falling asleep with him on Skype, the both of them shouting to wake each other up when they noticed they’d dozed off.

 

Luke had this big plan for Michael’s nineteenth birthday since he was treated to a nice dinner at a semi-fancy restaurant for his birthday. He had a plan to go to the beach with him and have a nice romantic dinner and take him home and discuss like, marriage and children and a life together. He thought it would be like that but he’s stuck in the hospital. He thought they’d still be drunk off their recent engagement and they’d get the Friday off and it would be a long, lovely evening with champagne-flavoured kisses and the promise that they’d spend the rest of their lives together.

Unfortunately, as Michael’s birthday approaches and he still has a few weeks to go as an inpatient, he resigns himself to the fact that his birthday will be spent in his hospital room. It isn’t what he wanted at all and as the date grows closer, he has no idea what to do for his birthday. They won’t release him for an evening to let him roam the streets of Sydney and go out to dinner, where he could potentially catch a cold and it would turn into an infection and kill him. And there’s nothing fun in the hospital: just a cafeteria and hallways full of sick people and a near constant melody of people vomiting.

Luke doesn’t know what to do for his fiancé’s birthday and he knows Michael will insist that it’s fine that they aren’t doing anything special but he wants to do something. He hates to think about it but it’s the honest damn truth that he might not be around for Michael’s twentieth birthday so the least he can do is make his nineteenth special and wonderful. He just fucking hates being cooped up in a hospital with nurses for his primary company and intermittent visits from Michael or his family.

He’s running out of time to plan, which is still sort of stuck in the first stage where he doesn’t know what they’re going to do, when he wakes up in the middle of the night with the worst stomach ache in the world and a headache. Doing what his doctors suggest, he rolls onto his back and only has enough time to sit up before he gets sick all over his lap.

The rest of his night is spent awake, feeling small and undignified as a nurse got him new bed sheets and having to find new pants to sleep in. The first time he actually recognizes being asleep instead of just on the verge of it, stuck in an in-between where his eyes are closed but he’s still kept partially conscious by the aching of his head, is close to dawn. He wakes up little over an hour later when a doctor comes in and takes a sample of his spinal fluid to test how well the chemo to his spine and everything was working.

It isn’t like he isn’t used to the pain of a lumbar puncture or the pain that lingers afterwards, when he can still feel the exact spot the needle punctured, but he’s having a bad day. He whines about the pain and he whines about having to do chemo and he just feels miserable and he doesn’t really want to be alive if his life is a series of needles.

(Luke knows it’s harsh and that he should feel lucky to have the technology available to him that he hasn’t already died from his illness but if the chemo is unsuccessful and he spends the rest of his life with this malaise and having barely any ability to keep his food down, he would rather be dead. It’s harsh and it’s unfair to the people he loves but it’s really hard to stay motivated to fight when he feels like a zombie.)

He sends a text to Michael and tells him he had a bad night, getting sympathy in the reply but it doesn’t feel right and it makes him feel a little worse, if he’s honest. He wants Michael _here_ with him, not on his way to his last exam and then a long work shift. He wants to be taking exams as well and going to work and just being a functioning adult, since he’s legally regarded as one despite the fact he still feels like a child and he misses the juvenile exuberance of children’s hospital.

He misses children’s because it’s just so functional and it feels lifeless here, like he was terminal from the moment he walked in.

It’s a bad day, he reminds himself as his back aches from the needle and his chest hurts from keeping back the tears, and his nurses remind him it’s just a bad day. He just wants it to be over because bad days last and they take a while to get over; like colds, the feeling lingers.

Luke’s mum can’t come up because she has a cold and she doesn’t want to pass it on to him, but she promises to Skype later and he tries not to think about how today is a _really_ bad day and he’d rather just sleep through all of it, but he can’t get to sleep because his back hurts. He really wanted to see his mum, the innate, childish desire for her to be near heightened because he doesn’t feel well, and though his dad comes up for a bit, it isn’t the same. He sort of wants to go and see Ashton as well, but his amputation was two days ago and he’s been on heavy painkillers since then and his mum has been with him round the clock and his personality is masked by the drugs.

He knows it’s no one’s fault they can’t come up and see him but he’s still petulant about it and he just wants things to go his way and he’s frustrated he has zero control over his life at this point.

“Hey,” someone says as they come in and Luke is too focused on picking at his blanket to really pay attention. He’s too frustrated to look up.

He grunts in response, guessing that it’s one of his nurses, maybe that new one, Anthony, who was fresh out of school and training.

Usually he likes it when Jack comes by, evidently he had badgered at the older nurses until they told him exactly what rules he can get away with bending every once in a while. It’s just little things like sneaking in someone’s favourite food, a cucumber roll for Janette down the hall for her seventy-fourth birthday or a pack of eucalyptus drops for everyone to share, or on one memorable occasion, hooking up some of the older patients with an all-day James Bond marathon through an online live-stream, from Barry Nelson to Daniel Craig.

Who knew old people were so into spy movies?

Today, though, he just wants to wallow in his own misery. Jack doesn’t deserve to get caught up in his mood, he’d rather be facing one of the harpies who wouldn’t let his ire faze them.

“You okay?” He asks, taking a seat instead of grabbing the blood pressure cuff.

Luke looks up and it’s Jack, probably switching off with his dad after he made zero progress in getting him to feel any better. He shrugs in response. He still doesn’t feel well and Jack is on the list of people he wants to see but not as high as his mum or Michael.

“What’s wrong?” Jack prods. He’s obviously determined to get him to talk.

“I don’t feel well,” Luke sighs. It’s just the tip of the iceberg and he doesn’t feel like getting into everything.

“What else?”

Luke shrugs. It might feel better to get it all out, or something, but he doesn’t want to talk about it, really.

There’s a bit of a pause and for a moment Luke is thankful that Jack is just sitting here and not making him talk. “What doesn’t feel good?”

“My back hurts and I feel sick and ugly and I just want to be better.”

Jack nods. “That’s understandable. You’ve gotten through this before so you can definitely do it again.”

Luke sighs quietly, preferring to not respond rather than be snarky about it.

“I know it’s really, really hard,” Jack says. “But you’re a fighter.”

It feels like being talked up to war and it’s the same bullshit one of his nurses has been spouting, the same positivity and how he’s _fighting_ this huge _war_ and sitting in the hospital receiving chemo seems so childish compared to the horror people in real wars go through.

“It’s a bad day but tomorrow will be better,” he promises. “Isn’t today Michael’s last exam?”

Luke nods silently.

“He’ll be able to come up more often, so that’ll be nice. And mum will be better soon and until then you’ve got me and Ben and dad.”

“Michael’s birthday is soon,” Luke mumbles as though that’s important or Jack really cares.

Jack nods.

“I don’t know what to do for it,” he admits. “I’m stuck in the hospital and I don’t know what to do for his birthday and I can’t buy him anything worth keeping because I don’t have any fucking money and I can’t leave. So, I have nothing to do for his nineteenth and I feel really, really bad about it.”

“I could always buy something for you,” he says. “For you for your boyfriend,” he chuckles. “But it could work and once you’re well, you could pay me back if it’s relatively inexpensive.”

“But I don’t know what to get him. Like, I’d get him my health if I could but I still have another few weeks of this left and I won’t be out in time to just celebrate it late.”

“He likes music, doesn’t he? He has a guitar?”

Luke nods. “Yeah, it’s pretty old.”

“Replace it,” Jack suggests. “Is it an acoustic?”

“Yeah, it is,” Luke says. “But it might be a little expensive so you really don’t have to, Jack.”

He shrugs, already pulling out his phone to search for a new guitar. “It’s my pleasure. You can pay me back when you get better.”

Luke bites back the query about what’ll happen if he _doesn’t_ get better and his leukemia is refractory and he just lives the rest of his life receiving enough chemo to keep him alive. He just nods and hopes to God that he gets better.

Still, Jack’s dogged about the whole thing, and he already feels enough like shit that he doesn’t want to bite the guy’s head off when he’s the only one willing to smuggle in anything better than the goddamn Jell-O cups from the cafeteria.

They end up finding a nice guitar for a reasonable price, though Luke still feels bad that Jack is doing it for him and is spending money for his fiancé when Christmas is slowly approaching and he’s got his own long term relationship he has to spend money on. Luke spends the rest of the day feeling shitty and sorry for himself but Jack’s solved at least one of his major problems and it lessens the stomach-churning anxiety.

 

Michael has officially finished first year university and his exams are all submitted for marking and he should feel good about that, ecstatic even, and he’s going out to the big party that a girl in his English class is throwing at her house, which sounds like it’s rife with opportunity to drink and have a good time and forget about Luke being sick. But he’d feel like a heel, showing up to Luke’s room the next day with a hangover and complaining about vomiting and feeling sick when Luke lived with that every day and couldn’t get drunk because it would probably kill him.

Calum’s had his last exam too and instead of finding a party to go to, they meet up at Michael’s apartment, to have drinks and try to celebrate as best they can when Calum’s boyfriend lost his leg a few days ago and Michael’s fiancé is still in the hospital, surviving.

 _Bad things come in threes_ , comes a quiet thought. He doesn’t want to consider what the third would even be.

Calum comes over and they start off with beers, sitting on the couch with Michael playing some music off his phone through a dock and it’s all right at first. The two of them can feign enough smiles to keep things upbeat and they talk about their exams and how they were difficult and how they were both glad to have the summer for themselves.

“Shit,” Calum says during a period of quiet, where they’re just listening to Fall Out Boy in silence together. “Your birthday’s on Friday.”

Michael nods, chuckling quietly. “You just remembered? Wow, Calum, we’ve been friends for like, eleven years and you can’t even remember my birthday.”

“No, but I mean, you’ll be nineteen soon. Should I make any big plans for you? Take you out clubbing and buy you a stripper?”

Michael laughs. This feels natural. “No, don’t. I’m probably going to spend the day with Luke and stuff.”

“Oh, right, the gross engaged couple,” Calum teases, though it’s forced and his smile has become strained.

“You okay?” Michael asks as Calum takes a long drink from his beer, probably draining it.

“I miss Ashton,” he mumbles, setting the empty can down.

“We can go visit them, if you’d like,” Michael suggests. “It’s a short drive and I haven’t really drunk very much.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s – he’s on so many painkillers and just so many drugs that he’s never really all that lucid. And his mum is always there and she’s lovely, don’t get me wrong, but it’s just so awkward to tell Ash that I still think he’s gorgeous, even if he only has one leg now. It isn’t his fault but I just miss him a lot.”

Michael nods. “Yeah, there’s some days where I go and it’s just that the entire family is there or he’s just so tired or sick that I wonder if I sort of wasted my time going. That sounds horrible but with exams and stuff. It’s hard to study in the hospital, even when he’s sleeping or just resting or something.”

Calum gets another beer, nodding. “Yeah, with all the people around and just everything that’s going on. You sort of feel bad if you do anything other than visit them while you’re there.”

“Yeah,” Michael agrees as he takes a sip of beer. He still doesn’t like it very much and he’d rather have that wine he had with Luke around his eighteenth birthday.

“I’m terrified of losing him,” Calum admits all at once, his words carried on an exhale as he falls back into the couch.

It’s so abrupt that Michael doesn’t really have time to form his reply that God, _yes_ , every day he wonders if something will go wrong and he’ll get The Phone Call from Liz or Andy.

“Like, I know his chances are amazing but it’s still so, so scary,” Calum elaborates, holding the beer in his hands and speaking mostly to it. “There’s still a fifteen percent chance that it won’t be enough and I’ll lose him.”

“They’ve shuffled Luke’s drugs,” Michael whispers. He doesn’t know how much Calum knows of Luke’s treatment. “Because it wasn’t working.”

Calum puts his beer down and lets his elbows rest on his knees, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “This is so fucking awful,” he mumbles. “I know it’s worse for them and we have really nothing to complain about but it still just fucking _sucks_.”

Michael nods. “This shouldn’t be happening at all,” he sighs. “It just shouldn’t fucking exist and it shouldn’t have happened to them. They’re such good people.”

Calum is quiet for a minute, his gaze fixed on the wall. “This would all be way easier if we’d fallen for each other,” he says. “It would be so much easier.”

“Yeah,” Michael agrees. “But then like, we’d still have them as friends and they’d still be sick.”

“I hope there’s some alternate universe where they’re fine,” he murmurs. “They deserve lives like that. Where Ashton doesn’t have to worry when he has some sort of pain and Luke doesn’t have to worry if he’s dizzy like, once.”

He nods. “It would’ve been so much easier if it was you and I.”

“This isn’t fair. They deserve better.”

Michael nods mutely, taking another sip of beer.

“They’re the nicest people in the entire world,” Calum goes on, voice rising. “Why do _they_ get cancer and not the fucking awful people?! This isn’t fair!”

He looks over at him, his face resting in his hands and his face was contorted in ire. “Calum,” he says softly, trying to soothe. “It isn’t fair at all. But there’s no point being so mad about it. You’ll just waste your energy.”

Calum groans, frustrated and angry into his hands. “I don’t want my boyfriend to die and I don’t want Luke to die and I don’t want cancer to fucking exist at all. This is bullshit. It’s _bullshit_.”

“I know,” Michael agrees. He has bursts of this sometimes, unbearable anger in which he can’t help but just yell into his pillow but he doesn’t usually snap in front of people. He doesn’t want Calum’s anger to trigger his own because they would end up trashing the flat and Michael is disorganized and he has trouble remembering to make the bed in the morning without Luke to do it for him.

“It’s exhausting and I feel like such a shitty boyfriend saying that.”

“You aren’t, Calum,” he promises. “Drink, okay? And stay here tonight.”

Calum ends up spending the night in Michael’s (and Luke’s) bed with him, the two of them cuddled together with a mutual terror. (Michael is glad that he isn’t sleeping alone for another endless night even though Calum’s body is more taut than Luke’s from all the soccer training and he can’t pretend for even a moment that Calum is Luke, but there’s a point before he falls asleep where he can just believe that the body he’s cuddling up with is his fiancé’s and not his best friend’s.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	40. 12 745 260m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _a long way from the playground_  
>  (this chapter contains a lil talk about death and some (lots) of cynicism)

A few days later is his birthday and while it’s horribly sad that Luke is stuck in a hospital bed when he should be able to go out and get smashed with him or something else horrible and cliché like that, he has a good time. Luke bought him a new guitar, which showed up on his doorstep that morning, and he takes it with him to the hospital, tuning it by Luke’s bedside before playing him a song to cheer him up since he’s still recovering from the bad day he had not too long ago. Luke also got an extension on Michael’s visiting hours, a blessing that means they can cuddle up together when the sun has gone down without the knowledge that their visit is about to come to an end.

Michael is curled into Luke, his fingers carding gently through his hair and his eyes on the window, unable to make out anything except their own reflections right now. It’s calm and it’s comforting and even though Michael works pretty early tomorrow and he should be getting home soon, he can’t bring himself to get up and leave.

“Ever thought about how far we’ve come?” Luke asks quietly, his speech a little slurred and distorted from fatigue.

“Yeah, we’ve known each other for a long time,” he says softly. “Nine years, isn’t it?”

Luke nods. “Just about, yeah. God, I hated my parents for a week when they told us we were moving. I was so, so upset at them. Like, I liked this girl in my grade and I had some really cool friends and I was going to have an awesome teacher the next year. But I’m really glad we did move because I met you and that’s kind of the best thing that’s happened to me.”

Michael blushes and chuckles, cuddling closer to him. “You’re being a sap, Luke.”

“We’ve come a long way since then,” he murmurs, not relenting from the memories. “Like, the second day we knew each other we went to the playground and now we’re adults and we’ve been through so much together.”

“Luke,” he breathes, burying his face in Luke’s t-shirt from the concert, the night that was supposed to be so good but ended up so bad. “You’re going to make me cry.”

Luke brushes his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry, love. It’s just, like, you were there when I broke my arm and when I got diagnosed and when I fell in love with you and when I realized I was bi.”

Michael chuckles, trying to push away the thoughts that are urging him to remember this moment in case there are a finite number of them left, the thoughts that are making his eyes sting. He shuts his eyes against them and tries not to think about how Luke breaking his arm was just the first medical emergency in a series of too many, back when he was still with Olivia. “I love you,” he mumbles.

“I love you too,” Luke whispers. “And happy birthday.”

Michael tries to ignore the single tear that slides out of his eye as his mind goes on worrying that Luke won’t make it to see his next birthday. He cuddles closer and squeezes him a little tighter and just tries to hold on, to tether him down here to this hospital bed where the illness might not reach him and maybe it is love that gets people through this sort of shit. Maybe if Michael just sends him loving, happy vibes all the time, then he’ll recover in record time and before either of them know it they’ll go back to their pleasant domesticity where their biggest worry is waking the other up with their alarm when they have class at the ass-crack of dawn.

“Wish I could’ve taken you to do something more fun than this,” Luke murmurs, his fingers carding through his hair. Michael really wants to dye it orange again, just for the look on Luke’s face, but his work wouldn’t like that.

“This was fine,” Michael hums, tilting his head up to look at him and rubbing at the eye that was crying to wipe at the lingering moisture, feigning exhaustion over moroseness.

“Yeah, but you sang to me when it should’ve been the opposite,” he says. “But my fingers are like, always cold and I’m always tired and I’d muck it up.”

“Nah, you’ve got a gorgeous voice,” he promises. “Lots of control and very melodic and stuff.”

Luke smiles and kisses him. “That’s why I’m marrying you.”

The reminder of it makes the sadness drift away in a complete second, a smile spreading over his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. When I’m done treatment, we’ll do it.”

It assumes that Luke will get through every aspect of treatment but Michael will take it, will go along with the blind optimism that Luke’s body won’t betray him bad enough to kill him if it means he’ll be able to be Luke’s husband even for a minute. “Okay,” he whispers, kissing him softly.

It’s a nice kiss and Michael has missed kissing him so much and if it weren’t for the discomfort of the bed, he could almost pretend that they were back at home, getting ready to cuddle down and go to sleep together. It’s a nice kiss and it’s a nice moment – interrupted by a knock on the door, a nurse coming in to shoo Michael away and reminding him he wasn’t allowed to stay the night. He’s almost tempted to stay in the waiting room not far from Luke’s room, just to be closer to him than he normally is, but decides against it.

Michael packs up his guitar, thanks Luke for the lovely birthday and drives back to his lonely, empty flat, already missing his fiancé.

 

After being in the hospital for about a month with nothing to do but study endlessly for exams he’s not even sure he’ll be able to sit, Luke is fucking bored. All he has to do now is chat with Ashton and the nurses and read his textbooks over and over again. It was bad enough when his treatment was at three weeks, but now that it’s been a month and they’re keeping him a while longer because his blood is still showing elevated levels of leukemia and everyone is hoping that more treatment will fix him. Most of what he does is sit there or read or scroll on Facebook until his head hurts.

It was easier at the beginning when there would be a steady stream of incoming well-wishes and it was cheesy and almost intrusive but he had a sense of belonging and he didn’t feel so lonely and abandoned. It was easier at the beginning when his mum could constantly be around, could afford to spend time with him, and he had this feeling like it wasn’t all bad and he would be out of the hospital and back to being a healthy young man soon enough.

(The loneliness makes the anxiety worse and one of his doctors suggested a support group for people between eighteen and twenty five surviving cancer. It doesn’t seem like the thing for him and he’s been debating whether or not he should go for a few nights now. It’s better than stewing in his anxiety that his leukemia can’t be cured but from the sound of it, it doesn’t sound like a space in which Luke would feel comfortable enough to boldly display his vulnerability.)

He’s checking Twitter on his phone when there’s a knock on the door and Luke looks up in the middle of reading some band’s announcement of a new single. It makes him look up at the door, confused, because his nurses usually just come in unless he’s got a visitor and no one that would be visiting him is prone to knocking. He clears his throat, since the last time he spoke was earlier this morning when his doctor came to check on him, and clicks his screen off.

“Come in?” He says, phrasing it like a question because he doesn’t know who it is.

The door opens and it’s a girl Luke remembers from his English class, a girl named Katie Sakakibara whose last name he remembered just because every time their prof attempted to pronounce it she would sigh and explain it. He smiles a little as she steps in, smiling awkwardly and hovering by the door.

“Hi, sorry,” she says, adjusting her purse. “I’ve been wanting to visit you for a while but between work and school and everything, I didn’t really have a chance.”

“No, yeah, that’s fine,” Luke smiles. It’s refreshing to see someone who isn’t in his family or his tiny tight-knit circle of friends.

“So, how are you?” She asks, taking a seat in one of the chairs across from him and putting her purse on the floor beside her.

“I’m doing okay. I mean, it sucks and it’s worse than last time but considering everything, I’m doing okay. How are you?”

Katie shrugs. “I’m good. Everything’s kind of been super stressful but I guess I can’t really talk,” she chuckles.

“Oh, no, the most exciting thing that’s happened to me all week is that one of my nurses got changed because he got married, I think,” he chuckles.

“That is kind of exciting,” she smiles. “You probably get asked by basically everyone who visits so I’m sorry for the redundancy, but how’s your health?”

“It’s good,” Luke says without a hitch. That’s been his go-to answer when his family asks and when Michael asks because he doesn’t want to tell them that the doctors are starting to believe that the poison they’re pumping him full of is futile.

“Yeah? Good, because I’m going to need you in English next year,” she jokes. “Half the reason I passed was because you’re so good at English.”

Luke laughs. “Well, I’m hoping I can get an English degree so it might be that.”

“Oh, it’s probably that,” she says, chuckling. “How’s Michael?”

“He’s great, I’m sure he really just misses me. We’re engaged now, so that’s exciting.”

Katie’s face breaks into a grin. “You’re engaged? That’s wonderful. Any plans yet?”

“Well, we can’t really because like, law and stuff,” Luke chuckles without any real humour. “But most importantly it would be way too stressful to plan it when I’m like this so we’re just sort of hoping that it becomes legal by the time I’m better.”

(He conveniently leaves out the part where he’s worried if they start planning, the world will decide to fuck them over and he’ll die before he can make it to the altar.)

“Of course, right. It’s so awful that there isn’t marriage equality here, like that’s just bullshit. Why isn’t it legal; why is it even a question?”

Luke is too exhausted and too sick to think so critically about politics so he takes the easy way out and just nods. “Yeah, it’s horrible.”

“But, anyway, tell me about the proposal.”

“It was wonderful,” he lies between his teeth all in the name of making himself look less pathetic. “I proposed at a concert and it’s not really the best ring in the world and he probably deserves something way nicer but it’s all I could afford between rent and groceries and everything.”

She smiles. “That sounds adorable, honestly. How long have you two been together?”

“Uh, four years.”

“Damn, that’s fantastic,” Katie says. “You two are going to be that couple that like, grows old together after knowing each other forever – that’s adorable.”

He ignores the pang of anxiety as he wonders if he’ll make it long enough to grow older than nineteen with Michael and they have a lovely, friendly conversation until Katie checks the time and rushes off to meet her sister for lunch. In all, Luke had a wonderful time talking to her because it was someone other than his family and Michael and she’s a nice person. She was optimistic that Luke would get better, something he’s noticed Ben in particular has stopped doing; she made plans for the future and it felt really nice whereas Ben has avoided mentioning the future at all since Luke’s diagnosis. He understands why but it still stings every time he stops himself.

After a lunch of soup and bread, Luke makes his way over to Ashton’s room and finds him a little sweaty and sitting down in one of the chairs, crutches resting on the bed next to him. His doctors have been teaching him how to walk with crutches and only one leg and it’s hard work, judging by the amount of times Luke has found Ashton sweaty and irritable in his room.

“Hey,” he says softly, knocking on the doorframe as he walks in just to emphasize his arrival.

Ashton looks up and his frustrated expression softens into a smile, his hand adjusting the bandana in his hair to cover up his thinning hair from the chemo. “Hi,” he says. “How’s it going?”

Luke shrugs as he sits on Ashton’s bed, the metal of his crutches pressing against his hip. “A girl from my class came to visit and it was really nice, actually. How about you?”

“That was really nice of her,” he says. “But yeah, I’m not really doing all that well.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I just hate this. I hate not having a leg and I hate being on so many different drugs that I don’t really feel like myself. I hate that I have to learn to walk again and I hate that I’m going to be fitted with a prosthetic. I’m just so sick and tired of this and I’m sick of feeling like I’m letting Calum down and I really wish this hadn’t happened because we bonded over playing soccer and I don’t want to lose that with him.”

“Hey,” Luke soothes. “You aren’t letting Calum down.”

He had more to say but Ashton cuts him off with a sigh. “I feel like I am,” he insists. “He wants to be a professional soccer player and it’s how we bonded in the first place and the first time we kissed for real was on a pitch. I won’t be able to do that anymore.”

Luke sighs quietly as he watches Ashton’s expression change to getting more visibly upset. “Ashton…” he says quietly. “Take up playing FIFA with him.”

“I don’t like FIFA,” Ashton mumbles, looking for all the world like a petulant child and Luke is reminded of the few times he’s met his little brother, of the similarities in how Harry pouts his bottom lip and how Ashton does.

“Then find a new tradition,” he suggests. “Play Mario Kart together all the time if that’s what you guys end up doing. He adores you.”

Ashton is quiet and doesn’t respond and Luke knows the feeling all too well. It’s a bad day for him and Luke knows that it’s a completely illogical reaction to people being helpful, that Ashton probably just wants to wallow in his own self-pity while he can and fuck everyone else who gets in the way of that.

“It would’ve been easier if we ended up together,” Ashton murmurs, picking at a loose thread on his shirt.

“What’s that?” Luke asks because he isn’t sure that he heard him right.

“If you and me ended up together instead of me with Calum and you with Michael.”

Luke takes a moment to think about how easy it would’ve been. If that break up shortly after his diagnosis had been permanent, would Ashton have taken the chance and asked him out? Would Michael and Calum have ended up together? His skin crawls at the thought that Michael might be wearing a ring that Calum had bought for him instead of the cheap one from Luke but at the same time neither of them would have to suffer through withering relationships with two potentially terminal people. It’s a tug-o-war between the part of him that can’t stand Michael being with anyone but himself and the part of him that just wants the best for him.

“Yeah,” he mumbles finally. “Would’ve been easier.”

Ashton nods and stays quiet for a minute. “I just fucking hate this and I don’t want to be sick anymore.”

“I shouldn’t be on the chemo regime I’m on now,” Luke admits quietly. It’s been weighing on his chest for days now as the calendar switched to December but he’s too scared to tell his family and Michael. “I should be able to go home, I should be on consolidation at this point in treatment.”

“What?” Ashton asks, lividness gone from his voice and replaced by a softer, concerned tone.

“I’m still on remission induction. It hasn’t been working.”

“Luke,” he breathes, the anger gone out of his face and his voice and replaced with the terror that echoes what Luke has been plagued with since they told him about it. It feels nice to know he’s not the only one perturbed by this news and that this is normal, it’s okay to be scared.

Luke takes a small breath as his anxiety that he won’t live crests and rolls in. “If they can’t, they might be able to at least control it for a while. It might be refractory but it’ll be okay. I’ll be okay,” he offers the smallest twitch of the lips as he fights to keep his worry at bay.

“No but that isn’t fair,” Ashton whispers. “No.”

“Don’t worry about me, focus on getting better yourself,” he says softly.

“You can’t die on me, Hemmings,” he says like a parent telling their child they can’t go out until they do their chores.

Luke smiles a little more and takes his hand, squeezing it and receiving a squeeze in return. It’s a little tethering, reminding him that even if he is terminal he’s still here right now.

“Did they tell you about that support group?” Ashton asks after a few minutes of them just squeezing each other’s hands to remind each other they’re still there.

Luke nods. “Yeah.”

“I sort of want to go but I don’t want to go alone. Let’s just go together and see if it’s stupid or if it’s helpful.”

“Okay,” he smiles.

Luke spends a few more minutes with Ashton until the both of them, still obviously sick, turn into yawning lumps and he has to drag himself back to his room before he passes out in the chair beside Ashton’s bed.

Upon inquiring to his doctor about support group, which makes her light up since the last time she mentioned it he was quick to shoot it down, he’s told they meet every Thursday at five in a room downstairs. Thursday is an awfully long time away but he manages to spend his time with his family and Michael, who mentions Christmas shopping and Luke feels bad that he might not have the time or money to shop for anyone this Christmas. He might not be able to uphold the tradition of visiting his gran on Christmas day and it makes him feel sick when he realizes he might die before his eighty year old gran.

On Thursday, Luke helps wheel Ashton to the room that support group is held in, the both of them helping to move the wheelchair since they were both weakened from chemo and Ashton wasn’t balanced enough yet to get around on crutches. They’re a few minutes early because hospital traffic is a very real thing and waiting for the elevator either takes seconds or hours.

The room is organized into a tightly curved semicircle, nearly a circle except there’s a single chair set apart so that everyone can see, presumably. The room is half full and Luke and Ashton make their way over to the circle, Ashton wheeling to the end of the legs of the circle and Luke taking the seat beside him. It ruins the symmetry of the circle and a few of the other people are staring at them and he sorts the people in the circle into two groups with ease; inpatient and outpatient. Most of the inpatients have some sort of sign of hospital they’re carrying around with them and they’re dressed in sweats and pajamas whereas the outpatients are dressed like they belong outside, wearing clothes that are perhaps more socially acceptable to wear out.

“I feel like I just got to a new school,” Luke mumbles to Ashton. People are casting them looks, nothing dirty or mean, just curious, and he’s reminded of his first day at Norwest, though the looks were a little more muted because he had Michael by his side.

“No kidding,” Ashton chuckles. “This better be worth this because I’m getting the brunt of the looks.”

A few more people trickle in as it gets closer to five until finally the girl who leads the group, Cheyenne, arrives and she gets things started. She talks about how she went into grief counselling and doing this because her brother Marc died from pancreatic cancer when he was twenty one and she talks mildly about God for a bit before she starts people going around the circle and introducing themselves: name, age and diagnosis.

The first boy, an obvious outpatient from his jeans and his nice shoes, stands up, clearing his throat. “I’m Bryan and I’m twenty three and I had acute myeloid leukemia but I’ve been NED for two years.”

The next girl is Jenna, eighteen, and she’s got melanoma. Nasra is twenty and she had a brain tumour, her scar hidden by a hijab, Luke assumes after she mentions that she’s cancer-free. They go around the circle and the only trend he notices is that everyone there is either in remission or their cancer is controlled and their chances of achieving remission are high. It isn’t even confirmed that his leukemia is refractory but he feels a little like he doesn’t belong.

After a boy named Peter reveals he’s still fighting bladder cancer before Luke stands up, dizziness and breathlessness hitting him as he remembers that he can’t stand up so quickly. “Uh, I’m Luke, I’m nineteen and I have acute lymphoblastic leukemia.”

Cheyenne nods and gives him a small smile as he sits down, his ears burning underneath his beanie.

Ashton gives a small wave from his wheelchair. “I’d stand but it’s still a bit of an issue, sorry. I’m Ashton, I’m twenty and I have osteosarcoma.”

Luke is thrown off guard for a moment when he remembers that Ashton is twenty, that he’s a full year older than he is, until Cheyenne thanks them for sharing. She goes on and conversation starts about fears and hopes and Luke finds it all very interesting but he doesn’t feel like a part of it all, kind of like he’s more of an outsider. Ashton shares a little bit, a quiet admission after Nasra shares that her parents are starting chatter of grandchildren and she’s found out she’s infertile. Ashton admits the same thing, about how he asked to be tested a couple weeks ago and found that he was sterile, probably from chemo.

They talk about it on the way back, Luke talking between breaths while Ashton laments that he’d always wanted kids and while he’s definitely upset about not being able to have kids of his own he’s sure that adoption will be just as lovely. Ashton seems to have gotten more from that support group than Luke did; his pessimism over losing his leg and not being able to have children has been curbed after it whereas Luke is feeling relatively the same, like his emotions are all static until he learns whether or not his leukemia is refractory. He feels a little guilty that he doesn’t feel as happy about it as Ashton does but his fraction of optimism is making Luke feel a little better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	41. 11 952 126m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whistles innocently and walks away*

Michael has the night off the day Luke gets his final blood and bone marrow test before they give up on trying to cure him. It takes a day to process the results and Luke is anxious about it because in the morning he’ll learn whether he’ll get to have a life and a career and children or if he’ll spend the rest of his days sick and probably an experimental pincushion. He’s terrified and it’s a Friday so his parents will be there and he wants to tell Michael but he _can’t_. He just can’t think of a way to paint an optimistic picture when he might be dying.

Luke curls up with Michael the moment he arrives, tangling his fingers in his soft hair and pressing close enough that he’s a little too warm.

“Hi,” Michael hums, kissing his head. “You okay?”

Luke nods silently, carding his fingers through his hair and breathing in the familiar scent of his shampoo and deodorant and their laundry detergent.

Michael chuckles softly. “Yeah, my hair is totally clean,” he teases quietly. “I take care of myself without you.”

“Good, I was worried you’d move back in with your parents once I came in here,” Luke quips back, something about it not feeling quite right. Michael is getting on fine without him and he would do fine, will do fine, when the leukemia or a side effect stops his heart and it’s comforting but it aches deep into his bones to realize that he doesn’t get to grow up.

“Nah, I’m pretty good at making my own meals,” Michael murmurs. “I’m all right. Stoked for you to come home, soon, though.”

Luke nods, forcing away the thoughts of dying and experiments because it isn’t confirmed yet, to think about how lovely it’ll be to sleep next to Michael again and wake up to him. Maybe he can wake up to Michael making him pancakes and bacon again on Christmas morning before they see their families and maybe if he’s dying then he can drink on New Year’s because it won’t matter anyway, it just might expedite the process. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Miss our bed.”

He can almost feel the beam on his face even though his eyes are shut. “Sure you’re okay?”

“Just tired,” he lies quietly.

“Get some rest, then.”

“Stay until I’m asleep?” He looks up at him. It always ends up rousing him when Michael leaves but he gets those peaceful minutes of sleeping next to his fiancé.

Michael nods and kisses his head. The feeling of his lips on his bald head is still foreign and strange but he ignores that and rests his head on Michael’s chest, just above his heart, and tries to get some rest.

It ends up working, for the most part. He’s woken momentarily when Michael gets up to move to the chair but he sings him back to sleep and then he sleeps until morning.

It’s too beautiful a day and his boy isn’t there, leaving just a text to explain that he has to work the lunch rush and he’s sorry, but Luke does his best to keep from shaking himself apart with nerves about his diagnosis. After he showers, which takes the sharp edge off his nerves, he just kind of sits there and looks out the window, ignoring breakfast because his stomach is in knots from something other than chemo for once, and he just sort of watches the outside world.

From the day of the concert, his life has been on pause, nothing happening whereas Michael has stories about his work and all Luke has are updates on his health and how he’s feeling. It’s summertime now and the sun is shining bright and all the colours of the outside world are vibrant and vivid and Luke can remember loving this time of year when he was younger, biding his time waiting for it. It meant long afternoons and getting ice creams with his brothers and going to the beach and everything was so alive and he always felt so alive during summertime. There was so much to do and it was all his choice to do it instead of being forced to go to school every day and he just wants that feeling back, that feeling of liveliness.

There’s a knock on his door and he looks up from the window, blinking away the glare from the sun outside. “Come in,” he says softly, expecting it to be Dr. Cosillo, bearing the verdict about his health.

The door opens and his mum grins at him, which makes him return it. “Morning, love,” she says, closely followed by his dad. “Ben and Jack are coming later, Ben’s just finishing up some stuff with Christina.”

“They okay?” Luke asks, accepting a squeeze on the shoulder from his dad as he sits next to him.

She nods. “Fine, just discussing marriage, I think,” she says excitedly, sitting as well. Ben and Christina getting married has been at the top of her list of things she wants for years. “How are you?”

It feels absolutely rude to mention he might be dying so he shrugs. “I’m okay, a little tired and stir crazy.”

“You’ll get out of here soon, love, no worries about that.”

The topic quickly morphs into their plans for Christmas and his dad asks if Michael will be joining them again this year and his mum says that Karen is always welcome at theirs for Christmas. Luke relaxes with them and their chitchat about Christmas and how they’re asking what Michael might want for Christmas this year, since they’ve been getting him a gift for years now, and by the time there’s another knock at the door and it opens to reveal Dr. Cosillo, he had almost been living a beautiful ignorant bliss.

“May I speak with Luke privately, please?” She requests, effectively shooing his parents out. He’s glad they aren’t here for the breaking of the bad news but he sort of wants to hold their hands like he did when he was little.

She sits on one of the chairs across from the couch where he’s seated, the sunlight warm on the back of his neck and she frowns ever so slightly at it and he worries he’ll get a lecture, which is really the last thing he needs at this point.

“I’m sure you’re aware that your treatment hasn’t really been going to plan,” she says softly.

Luke nods, his fingers fiddling together against sweaty palms as he listens, throat too tight to respond.

“It’s taken a very long time for us to get to this point -” Luke feels a quick glimmer of fleeting hope and he looks at her “- and it hasn’t been easy on you. I’m sure you’re aware that this might be refractory leukemia.”

He nods again, hope gone in an instant and replaced with choking fear. “Yes,” he whispers after a beat of silence and his heart is pounding against his chest – _tellmejustfuckingtellmeplease_.

“I’m very sorry that I have to confirm those suspicions.”

Everything stops and devastation right down to his toes hits him full force.

“Your leukemia can’t be cured in traditional methods. It’s refractory.”

Slowly at first, his world begins to crumble even though the weight of the words hasn’t quite broken his skin and he isn’t bleeding just yet.

“There are still experimental trials we can get you into that might be able to cure it.”

Her steady stream of words don’t even get past the aura of what she said before and it keeps playing like a broken record in her mellifluous voice – _your leukemia can’t be cured_.

“No,” he whispers on an exhale, the word breaking that tiny wall he’d built up before her words and they hit him again, piercing through his skin and weighing him down so much he finds that he can’t re-expand his lungs, can’t manage to find his breath.

“I’m very sorry, Mr. Hemmings,” she says softly and he knows it’s sincere. “There’s still a chance that you can reach a second remission, don’t let go of that hope.”

His ribs in stasis, his face contorts into pain because he doesn’t want to die, he wants so badly to be alive even if being alive means chemotherapy every day of his life until the day his body can’t take anymore, even if it means being sick from the drugs every single evening and lying in cold sweats and mind-numbing nausea every night while everyone else sleeps peacefully around him. He tries gasping for another breath and manages only slightly, exhaling in a sob that breaks it all. The words have cut deep and now he’s bleeding.

Turning away from her and towards the back of the couch, he looks out onto the streets as best he can through a blurry film of tears, grasping for that little bit of hope he felt moments before she walked in, that residual excitement of being a kid. He buries his face in his arms, starting to cry harder than he can ever remember crying. This isn’t heartbreak and this isn’t the fear of having cancer because it could be lethal, it’s knowing that his cancer is lethal and it’s his body refusing to accept that he’s dying.

It feels like forever until his tears have dried up and he’s whimpering and sniffling and making generally pathetic noises all while feeling like he’s going to throw up from crying so much. He hiccups, sobs again, and it bubbles up painfully through his throat and shoulders, which have never experienced this so much and so hard at once.

“Mr. Hemmings,” Dr. Cosillo says softly, as soothingly as possible. “Would you like me to tell your parents? Or would you like to do that?”

He’s reminded of that first time, in the doctor’s office with the hematologist, only fifteen and hardly able to pronounce his title, receiving the bad news on his own and receiving the same question. Last time, he chose a completely informal jerk of the head, accompanied by a sniffle and a quiet, “You. Please.”

Figures that he’d end up in the same position years later.

Dr. Cosillo stands and goes to the door and Luke slinks, on shaky and heavy legs, back to his bed, pulling the thin blankets around him as though they might offer some protection from death. He shuts his eyes and bites his lip hard enough he can keep his shuddering sobs at bay and listen closely to the other side of the door. He can pick out the doctor’s voice, soft and apologetic, but only tone and no words and he waits for her to finish so he can hear what he knows is coming.

Silence.

Another murmur from Dr. Cosillo before he hears her shoes against the tile, walking away. Anxiety settles deep in his stomach as he worries over his parents’ reactions, as he waits for them to come in. A few seconds pass and he can’t hear anything except low murmuring until – _there it is_ – his mum sobs and it’s like a clap of thunder, jolting him and making him flinch. He remembers waking up to a thunderstorm when he was six and going to his parents’ bed, climbing in with them and his mother teaching him to count alligators between rumbles of thunder to ebb away being nervous about it, so he employs that here.

 _One alligator. Two alligators._ She sobs again and Luke pushes his face into the pillow and tries to drown it all out.

Counting alligators only works with thunderstorms, not broken mothers crying over their dying sons.

The door opens and his dad is whispering to his mum, little encouragements to not run away and hide, and they approach the bed slowly. Luke curls away just slightly, burying his head under his shoulder and in the pillow.

“Luke,” his mum whispers, her voice thin and he can almost hear the tissue in her hand, crumpled and already soaked with tears.

He doesn’t respond, trying his hardest not to break down.

She sits on the corner of his bed. “Baby,” her voice breaks and she chokes out a sob.

He shakes his head, trying to convey to her somehow that he just can’t do this.

“We can do something, you can try those experimental drugs and you’ll be okay,” she whispers. She doesn’t sound sure of herself at all, like she’s trying to convince them both.

“There has to be something else,” Luke whispers. “There has to be something else they can do.”

“These experiments, love, that’s what they can do.”

He shakes his head, whimpering to hold back the tears. “No, something else. I don’t want to be a – a lab rat so the FDA can, can guess at what _might_ help. I don’t want to be a science experiment, mum, I want to just stop being sick.”

She doesn’t say anything, squeezing his shoulder and it’s so maternal and loving and he doesn’t want to die. The thought keeps ringing in his head like that time when he was six and he thought it’d be a great idea to stick his head in a metal bucket and head-butt the wall, so loudly he’s surprised he isn’t shaking with it.

He doesn’t want to die.

“I don’t want to be fucking sick anymore!” He bursts, sobbing just after he says it.

His dad comes around to the other side of him, the side he’s facing, and takes his hands. He doesn’t open his eyes to look at him and he doesn’t lift his head out of the pillow. He doesn’t want to see his parents’ faces.

“You’re going to be okay,” he murmurs as Luke squeezes his hands hard to make him let go but it doesn’t work. His hands, big and calloused from work, take the squeeze and squeeze back gently to get him to soften his grip. “I love you, Luke. We both love you very, very much and you’re going to be okay.”

“I’m going to die,” Luke says to his pillow, the words tasting like bile in his mouth.

“And you won’t be sick anymore,” he says softly and it’s the saddest he’s ever heard his dad and it drags another whimper out of him.

“I don’t want to die,” he breathes out, wishing he couldn’t hear the little sobs from his mum and the deep, pained breaths from his dad. He wants Michael and he wants to never die.

“I know,” his dad whispers. “I’m so sorry, you shouldn’t die so young.”

It takes another few hours before Luke has stopped crying, until he’s tired himself out and he’s got his head on his dad’s chest, trying not to think about it as he falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	42. 11 952 126m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so like, i'm the ruler of angst and i'm sorry that this fic is so sad friends

Watching impatiently for the clock to tick over, Michael sighs with relief as he tromps out of the dining room and into back room, where his coworker Violet is brainlessly staring at the TV, the channel tuned to what looks like _High School Musical_. He grabs his coat as though he’ll even need it – he only brought it because it looked like it might rain and it’s easier to carry his wallet that way. He fishes his phone out of the pocket, checking for any texts or updates from Liz, since she texted that they were going up last night and he thinks that might mean today was a day they got news from the doctor, but he can’t be sure. Leaning against the wall, he clicks his phone on and runs a hand through his hair to catch his breath as he types in his password, a text icon sitting at the top of his screen.

Turns out he does have a text from Liz, saying that there’s news at the hospital, and that the good news is that they can take Luke home tomorrow. He smiles and pockets his phone, untying his apron and folding it up before he tucks it away and says goodbye to Violet, even though he hardly worked with her tonight. He goes out to catch his bus, his feet aching, and he catches it to the hospital, waiting out the bus ride thinking about having Luke home.

He tries not to think about why she phrased it like there wasn’t only good news. Liz is under a lot of stress, no wonder she wouldn’t be typing clearly.

It doesn’t mean that Luke will be miraculously well again overnight and that it’ll go back to the way things were before he collapsed at the concert. The best case scenario doesn’t even come close to touching the fantasy, but it’ll mean having his boy home again to make pancakes with in the mornings and watch Netflix with and tangle their feet together. He’ll have someone to share the bed with again and maybe his pillow will start smelling like Luke’s shampoo again.

He wonders on what the news could be for a few minutes, thinking that maybe it’s that he’s finally reached the consolidation part of his treatment and he’ll be okay.

Exiting the bus on more of a stumble than a practiced hop reminds him how tired his legs are and how he can’t wait to get home tonight, to sleep with the knowledge that Luke will be coming home, even if it’s only for a week or two before he goes back. He reminds himself that it’ll probably be stressful with Luke trying to make up his exams and with the both of them living in the flat on a single income but the excitement of having Luke home at all is making him giddy enough to forget about it until it affects him. He takes the elevator up, fixing his hair in the slightly warped reflection on the walls before he gets off and walks towards Luke’s room, checking the time quickly to remind himself that he hasn’t got much time left to visit.

He taps lightly on the door before he opens it, stepping in and immediately he realizes that it won’t be as easy as taking Luke home tomorrow and staying with him through the rest of his treatment.

The sunset is coming in through the window, casting pale reds, pinks and oranges over Luke, who was cuddled up with his dad, asleep peacefully, while Liz sits silently, holding a cardboard cup presumably full of coffee. Her back is to the sunset and she isn’t looking at Andy and he isn’t looking at her, his thumb gliding along Luke’s shoulder and they both look at him the minute he walks in. He offers up the smallest of smiles, trying to get a feel for what kind of atmosphere he’s walked into because he can’t read their emotions.

“Hey,” Michael says quietly, conscious of Luke being asleep, as he walks over to get one of the other chairs. “Where are Ben and Jack?” They usually visit on weekends too but there’s no sign of them.

“They left a couple of minutes ago,” Liz says softly. There’s something tucked into her left hand – the hand not holding her coffee and Michael fixates on it instead of Luke because Luke is all curled up and he looks sad and all his excitement is replaced with this bad feeling in his gut.

Michael nods and takes a quick breath. “Is everything okay?”

Liz and Andy exchange a look, a fleeting glance and Liz takes a breath. “Come with me to the hall,” she says, standing.

Fuck. Nothing good _ever_ comes from “we need to talk, alone,” no matter how nicely it’s put. _No_. His brain needs to shut the fuck up now.

As she fixes her shirt, Michael sees what’s concealed in her hand and it makes him a lot more scared to see that it’s a crumpled tissue. He follows her out anyway, even though his hands are starting to shake a little bit.

“What is it?” He asks once the door has clicked shut behind them.

Liz looks down into the depths of her coffee. “His leukemia is refractory,” she whispers to the liquid.

He has some clue of what that means from Google searches performed half-drunk and wondering if it’s too late to change his major and be a hematologist to cure leukemia. “What?”

She looks up at him, regret etched into the deepening lines on her face. “They can’t cure it.”

He shakes his head, feeling winded and dizzied from her words and – _fuck_ – he needs to sit down.

“They’re going to try experimental drugs but there’s no promises and he might not consent to it but even if he doesn’t they can keep him alive for a while more with chemo and maybe eventually it’ll go away.”

It’s said in one big breath and it leaves him reeling away, the world going glossy and soft around the edges.

“Is he going to die?” He whispers, and it doesn’t sound like his voice, high and tiny as he fights to keep his knee locked as they threaten to buckle. His joints feel all gelatinous, loose in their sockets, like he’s balanced precariously at an angle and the only thing holding him together is the gravity pressing down _just so_. Liz looks ready to throw herself in his path to keep him from charging back into Luke’s room and waking him up by taking a running leap or something.

Thing is, he wants to. Or knows that he should – would, if he wasn’t so fuzzed out from – from bad reception world-to-brain, or whatever.

“Yes,” Liz says, her voice breaking and she looks away, staring at the wall while she composes herself. “He’s going to die. My son is going to die from cancer. Hopefully not soon, but…” she trails off. Raises the coffee to her lips. Lowers it before she can drink any.

“No,” Michael whimpers. “He’s a fighter, he can fight just a little bit more, he has to – Liz, please.”

She pulls him in for a hug and suddenly everything is _real_ again, vivid and bright and loud, glass shards in his heart and bruises in his veins, entire body throbbing with pulse. Michael cuddles close, trying hard to not just start _screaming_ but it’s so _hard_ because his boy is dying. His fiancé is dying.

“I can still bring him home, right?” He whispers, forcing back tears until he gets somewhere that isn’t here.

“Yeah,” she says softly, rubbing his back. “We’ll discuss this when you’re calmer, okay?”

He nods, squeezing his eyes shut and his throat and chest hurt from the effort of not sobbing.

“Go home. He’s just gotten to sleep and you need to go home and have a good cry.”

He nods again, pulling away and Liz pulls him down to kiss his forehead with shaky lips, the same thing his own mum did after she told him about the divorce so many years ago.

“I love you, sweetheart. Call if you need to talk.”

“I love you too,” he whispers, turning and going down the hall, every step fuzzes out the world again until he’s back to where he was.

It all feels like he’s suspended in some sort of surreal dream, like he’s on autopilot as he goes back to the elevator, pressing the button and waiting for a solid second before he chooses the stairs instead, impatient and not willing to wait for fear that it’ll give his body a chance to let it all out. He floats down the stairs and his knees are shaking again and his work clothes are uncomfortable at this point, the tie chafing uncomfortably, a collar, a noose, as he keeps moving, anything to keep the tears at bay. He loosens it with one hand while he pushes the door to the ground floor open, gasping in a breath and heading for the exit.

He strides past the bus stop, walking on to the bus terminal, which is just a few blocks, really, and he doesn’t want to stop moving because then he can’t focus on the cadence of his shoes and the pain in feet and legs and the way moving quickly in the summer mugginess is making him sweat. The bus he would normally catch to take him home drives past him when he’s between stops and he doesn’t catch it, just swears under his panting breath and continues on to the bus terminal to wait for the next one even though, at this point, he could really just walk all the way home.

Michael makes it to the terminal and there’s a fair number of people sitting on the benches and reading newspapers or tapping on their phones with ear buds tucked into their ears. Out of breath and devastated, he collapses on the cement foundation for a streetlamp beside one of the little structures where there’s a collection of people just waiting for their buses. He leans back against the warm metal of the pole and it’s hot out even though it’s getting late and – _fuck_ , it hurts so bad.

He can’t differentiate between the pains anymore: his legs and feet, his chest or his heart and everything else. He doesn’t want to do this here but he can’t hold it back anymore, a sob erupting from his mouth and cutting through the mostly-silent bus terminal, and he can feel pairs of eyes turn to look at him. He covers his mouth with his sweaty palm and buries his face into his knees, trying to hide the fact he’s breaking down at a bus terminal off all places, against a streetlamp that’s probably been soaked in piss.

Somewhere inside, he knew this was coming and he knew he was going to lose Luke eventually but he thought it would be after more time together when they had finally, after more than ten years, had enough of each other. He thought it would be when they were eighty, celebrating some wedding anniversary when their bodies finally got too old and worn out to continue and they wouldn’t have to worry about anything because they’d have their children.

He hears a bus engine start and he pulls his head up, wiping at his eyes even though tears are still sliding down his cheeks and he might as well not be doing anything at all. It’s a bus that stops near their flat and he gets up, grabbing his fare out of his pocket and going to the stop with a small crowd of other people. He wipes at his eyes and nose one more time, waiting near the back of the slowly shifting line when someone taps his shoulder.

The person behind him has bright green hair and too many facial piercings for him to count and beautiful tattoos down their arms. “Are you okay?” They ask, their shirt baring at both times a gorgeous navel piercing and toned, tight abs.

Michael nods quickly, stumbling further up in line. “I’m fine, thanks,” he says. He doesn’t want to get into it with a complete stranger.

“Are you sure? You were crying pretty hard, mate.”

“Just got some bad news but I’m – I’ll be okay, thank you,” he says, offering a weak smile and biting back more tears. ‘Bad news’ hardly scrapes the surface and saying he’s okay is a lie. But he will be, by tomorrow, because Luke’s not going to just need a rock, he’s going to need him to be fucking Everest to weather this.

The person nods. “If you need someone to talk to, I’ll probably just be a few seats away.”

He nods back mechanically and it’s _so_ kind that it kind of just breaks his heart more. “Thank you,” he manages through his tight throat as he gets on the bus.

Honestly, the offer is… kinda tempting. Liz managed to ground him in the hallway, but this is some poor commuter who noticed that his life had gone to shit.

He hopes they have an absolutely kickass life, none of this cancer bullshit threatening to burn people out of their life.

The bus is mostly full and Michael manages to get a seat alone at the very back of the bus, a few rows down from the green-haired person and he brings his feet up to tuck them under himself, leaning against the window. The bus is air-conditioned and the person’s hair is reminding him of when he had green hair and he was so young and Luke wasn’t sick yet.

He shuts his eyes as the bus rumbles out of the terminal, the vibrations from the glass onto his forehead not altogether pleasant but it’s something that isn’t reminding him that Luke is dying. He breathes and just listens to all the chatter even though his phone is right there beside him and he could easily plug his headphones in and blare loud music until he loses his hearing and loses this deep-set ache in his chest.

Michael doesn’t fall asleep – he can never manage it on public transit and especially not on a bus this loud and populated – but he definitely straddles the line of consciousness for a while, zoning out and trying to think happy thoughts about Luke. It works for a while and he lives in memories, particularly the ones where they ended up on his bed making out and the playful ones too, the ones where he went with his family to the beach and felt like he had brothers. He lives for a little while in those memories that feel somewhat dream-like, sort of like he’s just making them up now when he’s upset but at the same time they’re so vivid they can’t be dreams.

The bus comes to a stop after a while and Michael opens his eyes, noticing now how quiet it is, and a glance out the window tells him they’re at a bus terminal in a different part of town. The driver is walking down the aisle, checking the seats and picking up things like a newspaper, a glasses case and an empty water bottle. Michael quickly corrects his posture, taking his feet off the seat and scooting to the aisle.

“Last stop was a block ago,” she says, a slight accusatory tone to her voice.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Fell asleep.”

He squeezes past her in the thin aisle, getting off the bus and trying to figure out where he is. He’s pretty close to home and he walks it, calling in sick to work on his way home because he doesn’t think he can handle coming in for his shift tomorrow evening. He arrives home and changes into sweats and one of Luke’s shirts that lost his scent a long time ago but it still feels like him, too broad in the shoulders for him and a little too long and the collar stretched out. He’s tempted to just collapse into bed but he grabs his smokes and lighter from his pocket, heading to the balcony and sitting against the railing like he did the night he found out Luke was sick again.

Michael lights up a smoke and takes a long drag and it doesn’t calm him down at all. He burns through the cigarette easily and quickly, lighting up another and hoping it works to take the edge off the pain in his heart.

 _Luke wouldn’t like this_ , he reminds himself and then laughs. “He’s dying,” he whispers, taking another drag and he coughs it back out. “He can’t be dying,” he mumbles as an afterthought between coughs.

Michael has known Luke for nine years now and they’ve always been attached at the hip from day one when a shy Luke waved at him and got dumped with him to be out of the way for unpacking. He had been drawing a truck’s logo, an explosion? No, he remembers… tangles, lines over lines. Dynamite Moving, the fuse spun out around him, that was it. Jesus, so long ago. Nearly every day since, for nine years, he’s spoken to Luke and soon, within the next couple of years, he imagines, he won’t have that luxury. He doesn’t know what a world without Luke’s voice and Luke’s smile will be like but he knows he’ll have to live in one and he’s extremely reluctant to admit it.

Michael eventually ends up just sitting outside, the lingering taste and scent of cigarettes clinging to him and he worries about what Luke will think tomorrow when he gets home, tastes the sourness on his breath from some supernatural distance, the way he always has before. Michael has never gotten to smoke a guilt-free cigarette because of that boy.

The thought drags a bark out of him that might have been laughter on another day, but then he remembers he might get a cigarette sans nagging really soon and that kills it. He just stays curled up on their tiny balcony, half-hoping some fatal engineering flaw will cause it to collapse beneath him so he doesn’t have to live in a world where he can’t experience Luke’s voice and his touch and his smile. Even though he stays up a few hours, outside in the lukewarm night, probably being eaten alive by mosquitos, it doesn’t collapse and he ends up crawling back inside and into bed, alone again.

 

The first thing Luke is subjected to the next morning is a big meeting with all his doctors about what he wants to do. His options are laid out in front of him, metaphorically, with a lovely helping of literal pamphlets that are neatly piled off to the side for… extra information, he guesses, and strained smiles. The first choice they give him makes more than one doctor uncomfortable, as it’s to refuse medical intervention altogether and let his leukemia just run its course and kill him in a matter of weeks, probably shortly into the New Year. The oncologist absently fiddles with his wedding band, twisting it around his finger while he outlined that option, and he really doesn’t want to dig into his tragic backstory when he still has to decide how he wants to die.

His second option is to continue receiving chemotherapy to keep it at bay because his blood counts have “shown marginal improvement” and he isn’t dead yet so there is an “optimistic outlook” if he goes for it. The doctors are bad at concealing how much they want him to take this chance over letting himself die, using their hands to illustrate points and leaning back in their chairs. They also tried to make it a chat more than a briefing so Dr. Wilson, the oncologist, turns to Dr. Cosillo, seated next to him, and mentions how “so-and-so had a similar outlook, and look how well they’re doing now!”

When they finish their song and dance, they give him a third option. He can choose to start on some trendy, new drug that’s reached clinical trials that he would be eligible for if he gave consent; the drug has currently been mostly ineffective in those who have tried it. They aren’t pushing for this one like they did with chemo, and they all give him the laundry list of side effects, expected and possible, but he can also see that the doctors all kind of hope he goes for it, not really for him but for the next Luke Hemmings who shows up in the cancer ward with a truly shitty prognosis.

He’s given that weekend to think about it and apologized to a number of times, as well given a prescription for antidepressants. He kind of wishes they would just keep him doped up on E or something, because “not depressed” doesn’t mean “happy”. All in all, it’s not the best way to start off his morning and he’d have much rather have had some of the more sickening chemo instead of going to that meeting.

Luke relays his options to his mother and she starts crying when he mentions the first one, which makes a wave of heat rush through his chest; seeing his mum cry has always broken his heart. He sits with her for a while, just cuddled up with her like he’s a little kid again, upset about moving to Riverstone and starting at a new school, even though he’s too big to fit in her lap and comfortably conform to her side like he used to. It disintegrates after a while and he ends up with his head in her lap, her fingers against his scalp as she let out the intermittent sniffle and his dad collects his things and puts them back in the bag.

Out of nowhere, he remembers quipping back to a classmate about how sleep is for the dead when someone mentioned how stressful exams were. “ _Life is stressful, dear_ ,” his English prof quoted back. “ _That’s why they say ‘rest in peace’_. David Mazzucchelli.”

It’s pretentious and childish, but he likes the sarcastic bite of it, the way it sits unspoken in his throat and warms him, like the way Michael described whiskey to him. When he remembers that this is likely the closest he’ll ever get to tasting it, the feeling sours into a burn that parallels the way Michael told him he had choked on the first time he tried it, so he figures that at least he has a good idea of why people would drink it now.

He rises from his pondering slowly, and watches his dad take a seat to poke at his phone, perplexed by the latest game app, no doubt. It’s endearing, and normal, and… now he’s blinking back tears.

“Did Michael come by last night?” He asks quietly after a while, when he’s sure that his voice won’t waver.

“Yeah,” his mum says. Her fingers are a little cold.

His world collapses in a little further when he remembers he’ll have to tell Michael. Unless… “Did you tell him?”

There’s nothing but silence above him, and his mum jostles him a little bit so he swivels his neck to look up at her. “Yeah,” she says again when she realizes he didn’t see her nod. “He’s taking you home.”

He looks up at her. “Back to our flat or back home?”

“… Your flat. It’ll be better if you’re closer to the hospital.”

Luke nods and he thinks he’ll like being at the flat for a while and waking up next to someone and maybe he’ll be able to keep Michael’s cooking down. Really anything is better than the horrible hospital cafeteria food.

“What do you want for Christmas?” His mum asks after a while and she fights so hard to keep her voice even that the inevitable crack at the end is unmistakable.

 _Health_ is the first thing that comes to Luke’s mind but it would really just be rude to say that and basically everything he says is pointless because he’s dying and it’s not like he’ll be able to use any gift he’s given for long. A nice watch would be wasted on him and that’s what he was going to ask his parents for and it stings when he realizes he needs a list for his brothers and his parents and Michael and Michael’s mum. “Can I get back to you on that?” He asks.

“Of course,” she says softly, taking deep breaths. “Just sooner rather than later because it’s just around the corner.”

He nods and shuts his eyes so he doesn’t have to see the way his dad is wiping the tears out of his eyes.

It doesn’t take much longer before Michael arrives, looking like hell with his hair flat and his cheeks unshaven and his eyes tired and sad. He’s never seen Michael look so bad and guilt oozes into his chest.

“Good morning,” he says softly, sitting up from his mum’s lap and dizziness scrapes against him, making him shut his eyes for a minute.

“Morning,” Michael says, his voice grumbly and deep.

Luke stands up with help from his mum, the dizziness a little worse as he takes Michael’s hand and his dad grabs his bag. “You okay?”

“I could be better,” he says softly, kissing his cheek. “You?”

“Hmm,” he hums. It accurately describes his mood without admitting that he’s dying.

“Only ‘hmm’?”

“Only hmm,” he confirms.

It takes a little while before he’s discharged and by the time he’s home, he’s tired enough from being so sad that he leads Michael to their room and sheds his pants before climbing into bed. Michael hesitates for a moment before climbing in next to him and pulling him close and it’s nice, a little warm under the covers and everything but he’s okay with that.

They lie in silence for a while, Luke just resting against him and weighing his options for his treatment by himself for the longest time, just listening to Michael breathe and trying to drown in his scent. His shampoo, his soap – their shared soap since buying two different brands was just more money – and the faint scent of cigarettes, which makes him scrunch his nose and wince. He relaxes and thinks of how to bring it up, with a lecture or a gentle scolding, but his chest is weighed down with guilt and he can’t make himself do it; Michael just found out his fiancé is dying and maybe smoking a cigarette is better than Michael offing himself.

“You okay?” Michael asks gently when Luke shifts.

“Mhm,” Luke mumbles. “I just have to make a decision about my care from now on and I didn’t really have that option before so it’s kind of scary and hard.”

“Yeah,” he breathes. “What are your options?”

“Refusing medical treatment, which is already just out of the question because I don’t want to die before I’m twenty,” Luke says softly. “Or I can receive palliative chemo for as long as it keeps me alive or I try an experimental drug that hasn’t been all that successful thus far but, hey, it might work for me.”

Michael is quiet, eyes shut and his breaths calculated. When his voice comes again, it’s stilted and rough, as few words as possible. “Pros and cons?”

“Well, palliative chemo might not work for long but the experimental drug might have some nasty side effect. But palliative chemo would keep me alive for a while, probably, keep me running and stuff, and the experimental drug might cure me.”

He nods. “You could always switch to palliative chemo if you don’t like the way the experimental drug affects you. I mean, it could cure you but palliative chemo is just keeping you alive.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Luke says softly. “I guess I’ll think about that one.”

Michael hums and kisses his head. “I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you too.”

Luke shuts his eyes again, his forehead pressed into Michael’s neck, as he thinks about how they’re still engaged and they still probably have time to get married if they go somewhere else. New Zealand has it legalized; they could probably go there on a day trip if they wanted to. They could have someone from the Internet meet up with them meet up with them as soon as they step foot on the country and marry them, ten minutes flat, and have Michael carry him home

But that would just make his death that much harder on Michael and he keeps sort of forgetting that he really is just dying at this point at a more expedited pace than other people his age. It just doesn’t feel real yet.

He falls asleep against Michael, trying to imagine a nice future for the two of them with a couple of faceless, nameless children but it’s so hard to imagine it without imagining Michael with a matching faceless, nameless spouse that isn’t him.

“ _Rest in Peace”_ indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	43. 11 260 926m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lots of vomiting in this chapter for anyone who's a little tetchy about that!!! enjoy tho, i really love this chapter

Two days before Christmas, when Luke is starting to carry around a new little prescription bottle with some exotic name on it that might even allow for his hair to grow back, they drive back home. The drive is quiet and kind of awkward, really, Michael driving and the both of them trying to make conversation that isn’t sad or _not_ conversation, which they’ve had for a while now because neither of them really know how to react to this.

It’s horrible, was and still is. He asked his mum and dad what they wanted for Christmas and they answered with teary smiles and a mumble that all they’d like is for him to be home for a few days. Rolling his eyes at the cheesiness, he got his mum a soap she liked but didn’t often get and he got his dad a bottle of quality rum, which will come in handy at some point, he’s sure. He didn’t know what to get his brothers and didn’t have the money, most of his bank account sapped from a month of being unemployed and spending most of it on helping Michael pay their rent, so he asked his parents to get them something from him, even though they weren’t doing so well financially either.

Luke just generally feels pretty terrible about being sick and ruining everything for everyone. His parents were well-off before he got sick and healthcare covered a significant portion but it really wasn’t enough for everything, especially not the experimental drug and especially not since they’ve both taken some time off work. He’s still going to be a drain on their economy with a funeral (which he mistakenly looked up the cost for and was completely disheartened when he found it was more expensive than he would ever want to impose on his parents). He sort of wants to just die now so they don’t have to continue paying for the treatment and the cost for the funeral hits them hard now so they have time to recover. At the same time, he fancies living quite a bit.

They arrive into the afternoon and Luke was just starting to doze in the warm car, against the window, when Michael lays his hand on his thigh and squeezes gently. It sufficiently rouses him and he opens his eyes, rubbing over them, while Michael gives a small smile. (It isn’t his smile, which is all crinkled eyes and pretty blinks and showing off his crooked teeth and his tongue. It hasn’t been his smile since the heavy melancholy of Luke’s impending, premature death has started sinking in.)

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Michael says softly. The fondness in his eyes is perennial.

“Hey,” Luke yawns. “We’re home already?”

“Yep. You go in and nap, I’ll bring your things in and then go and say hi to my mum.”

Luke nods, rubbing at his eyes. “Okay, give me a kiss.”

Michael leans over and kisses him quickly. “Love you, have a good nap.”

“Love you too,” he says, pulling away and getting out, going inside.

Luke goes inside and survives being bombarded by his parents, who he realizes are just happy that he’s still alive when he gets to his room and Pancake sneaks in before he shuts the door. His room is freshly cleaned, everything vacuumed and the sheets on the bed washed because Pancake has a knack for opening closed doors with her paw because Luke’s room is her favourite to nap in. He sits down hard on the bed, Pancake jumping up next to him, and he pats her head as he coughs.

He gives her a small cuddle which makes her flop around and purr until he realizes the cat he got for Christmas when he was ten is going to outlive him. After that, he lies down, pulling the covers over himself and he falls asleep.

He’s woken by a knock on his door a while later and when he opens his eyes, groggily noting that three hours have passed since he lay down to nap, his room has changed a bit. His bags are against the wall across from his bed, probably put there by Michael by the little piece of note paper with a poorly drawn heart and Michael’s scrawled signature. He sits up, or attempts to, until dizziness attacks him full force and he gives up, too tired to fight it, and just flops back down. Whoever it is can deal with him being half-asleep.

“Come in,” Luke mumbles, rubbing at his eyes. He’s only wearing sweats and a soft cotton shirt but it’s too warm underneath the blankets.

The door cracks open and Jack pokes his head in before opening the door all the way when he sees Luke is decent. “Hey, kiddo.”

He hums and slowly sits up, pushing the blankets off. “Hey.”

Jack hovers in the doorway for a minute before making up his mind and walking in, leaving the door an inch ajar and sitting down beside him, wrapping an arm around his torso. “How are you feeling?”

“Hmm, I could be better,” Luke murmurs, leaning into his embrace. (He’s sort of getting mildly annoyed with the change in semantics when he’s sick: he’s no longer asked how he’s doing but is always queried about how he’s feeling.)

“Yeah? That’s not too bad. You’ve been asleep a while, mum is worried,” he says.

Luke rubs over his face. “Yeah, the meds make me sleepy.”

“Are they working?” Jack asks, too much hope in his voice and Luke doesn’t want to tell him that it probably won’t work.

“I don’t really know yet, I’ve only been on them for a week. So far they just upset my stomach and make me tired but that isn’t new.”

“That’s terrible.”

Luke nods, laying his head on Jack’s shoulder.

“Ben’s here,” Jack says, squeezing Luke’s arm. “Him and Christina are catching up with mum and dad.”

“I should go say hi.”

“Yeah, he hasn’t seen you much since you recurred.”

He nods. “Neither have you.”

Jack chuckles. “Yeah and now you’re…”

The unspoken _dying_ lingers between them and Luke snuggles a little closer to him.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “Let’s go.”

They migrate to the living room, where Christina and Ben are curled together on the couch while his mum and dad are holding cups of tea as they all chat. They quiet when they walk in and take a seat on the couch, Luke tucking his feet underneath himself because the world outside of his bed is chilly, especially when Michael isn’t around to wrap him up in his warm arms. There are a few minutes where they discuss Luke’s health, a dull topic for Luke but one that everyone else is invested in, even though his fate is sealed in diagnosis. He’s going to get progressively worse over a period of time and eventually, before he’s sixty and has lived a good long life, he’ll die. Blunt, but true and not the most intellectually stimulating topic.

Christina is the first to ask after his health, the sleeves of her cardigan pulled down over her palms and her hands resting in her lap. He likes her and she’s been dating Ben for something like three years now. Once they get past the awkward fumbling for a way to politely remind Christina that Luke isn’t doing well, there’s a long pause where Luke kind of wishes Michael were here but he knows he hasn’t seen his mum in a while.

“So, we have some news,” Ben says, interrupting the silence and Luke watching Pancake meander into the room.

“Oh, yeah?” Mum asks.

“He proposed!” Christina gushes, the both of them beaming as she uncovers her left hand and shows off the ring.

Luke absentmindedly touches his left ring finger and smiles a little at the ensuing commotion, congratulating them after listening to the story of how it happened, clichéd in a restaurant with candles. (He feels ripped off; he got a hospital with harsh fluorescent lights and crying, not from happiness.) It’s all very cute, though, the stories and they’re excitement about it and Luke is glad it happened. Secretly, he always wanted a sister and accepted at a young age the fact that the only sisters he might ever have would be through marriage.

 

Christmas Eve goes well, as always, and Luke spends it wrapping and munching on his mum’s baking when he’s feeling well enough. They watch Christmas films together, Luke curled up with Michael at his house and making fun of the films while musing about how weird it would be to have snow on Christmas. Luke walks back across the street to sleep, the both of them used to spending Christmas morning apart before Michael and Karen come over for dinner, as they have since Luke and Michael started dating.

That night doesn’t go as well as it normally does. Luke tucks himself into bed feeling mildly nauseous – thinking that really, most of his life is just nausea at this point – and he thinks that getting a good night of sleep will be enough to fix it. It doesn’t and he wakes up early that morning, earlier than he would want to wake up even if he were a little kid and Christmas was still magic, and his nausea has gotten worse by a hundredfold. He knows he’s going to be sick and he’d rather it not end up like the time when he was fourteen and sat up in the middle of the night and just got sick all over his bed so he jumps up, racing to the bathroom.

Luke collapses on the bathroom floor, the tile cold under his hands and knees and the dizziness catching up to him from standing so abruptly. He manages to drag himself to the toilet before he’s sick, resting his head on the side of the counter, the little half-wall that it provides. His weak hand comes up to flush the toilet, his mouth stings from the acid and the taste lingers in his mouth.

There’s a light tap on the doorframe and he leans against the counter, his back half on it and the corner digging into his shoulder but it’s kind of distracting him from the mind-bending nausea and vertigo. “Luke?” It’s mum, her voice concerned and tired.

He groans softly in response, shutting his eyes. It’s been so long since he felt well on Christmas. It isn’t fair.

“Are you all right? I heard you fall.”

“I’m okay,” he mumbles. He’s mostly focussed on drawing deep breaths in through his nose, out through his mouth. Usually vomiting manages to quell at least some of the nausea and the rest ebbs away but that isn’t the case this time.

She goes over to him, wrapped in the purple housecoat that Jack got her last year for Christmas, and presses her hand against his forehead to check for a temperature. “You’re a little warm. Should I take you to the doctor?”

He shakes his head. “I’m okay, it’s just a side effect of the meds.”

She furrows her brows just slightly and Luke knows what she wants to say. She wants to ask, as he’s questioned himself over the past week and a bit, if living is worth this lower level of quality of life.

Is he willing to live even if living means the inability to keep much anything down, constant dizziness, malaise and fatigue to the point where he can’t keep his eyes open?

The scary part is that he doesn’t know the answer. He doesn’t know if he’s strong enough or willing enough to actually continue with the new regime of meds with exotic names and killer side effects. Maybe the side effects will plateau eventually, is what he reminds himself.

“You sure?” Mum asks quietly.

“I’ll be fine,” he says, tiredness creeping up alongside the nausea. He doesn’t want to sleep against the cupboards as he’s done before, scaring the shit out of his dad when he woke up to get ready for work, but he doesn’t want to go back to bed and risk getting sick on his carpet or blankets and he doesn’t want to grab a big bowl in case he’s sick again. It’s Christmas, loads of dishes will be used and he doesn’t want to occupy another one.

“Do you want to go back to bed?” She asks, kissing his head.

“Not yet.”

She stays with him, rubbing his back gently when he gets sick again and when he dry heaves until he cries. She helps him back to bed around eight, when everyone else is starting to get up, leaving a plastic rubbish bin right beside his bed in case he wakes up again and gets sick.

Luke sleeps for another few hours and when he wakes up, his old alarm clock glaring that it was already eleven and guilt settling down into his stomach. He can remember waking up at ten in the morning when he was younger, his brothers pounding on his door so they could open their presents because they weren’t allowed unless Luke was up as well. It isn’t even like he feels much better: his stomach hasn’t settled and his fatigue is only slightly curbed.

He can’t remember what it feels like to feel well, even though he did only a few months ago and he’s struggling to dredge up the memories of what it was like to not wake up dizzy and sick. He can’t remember what it was like before the hospital became a second home, which was probably before he was thirteen and before he broke his arm. Since that one incident, his life has been a series of visits to a hospital for increasingly serious and life-threatening things. A broken arm isn’t bad. Leukemia is worse. Refractory leukemia with a one percent chance of recovering is the worst.

There’s a knock on his door, gentle, as it always is because everyone is nervous to rouse him in case it might spoil the chances of a recovery. “Wake up, loser,” Ben says, no conviction behind the insult. “It’s Christmas.”

He sits up with a grunt to prove he’s awake and digs through his bag until he finds one of Michael’s sweaters and he pulls it on, even though it’s pretty hot out to begin with. He goes to the living room, wrapped up in the sweater, and curls up on the couch against the arm, leaning against it and supporting his head with his hand. Everyone else in the room is trying to act like they aren’t casting him worried glances and he’s trying to act like he doesn’t see them. He just wants to be normal.

It’s goes well for the first half, exchanging presents and Luke opening a lot of mixtures between Christmas and get-well-soon cards from people he barely knows. Olivia sent one, concise and sweet, telling him that he was in her and her family’s thoughts and prayers. His favourite gift is from his parents, a certificate in a black frame that says ‘Luke Hemmings, a star in the heavens has been named for you’ and it makes him cry a little. His parents are religious, not overly, but enough that they believe in God and the typically Christian afterlife and the wording of the certificate makes it sound like they’ve reserved him a spot in heaven.

“When he shall die,” he starts quietly, absently, still looking at the certificate, and stops when everyone flinches in the corners of his vision. But he’s the one dying, dammit, and if he wants to make relevant quotes with his partially completed English degree then he’s going to do it. He coughs to clear his throat and begins again, louder this time. “When he shall die, take him and cut him into little stars,” a strong voice joins in with him unexpectedly, but he doesn’t stop and neither do they, and the sound of their voices together makes him also feel strong, and whole. “And he will make the face of heaven so fine, that all the world will be in love with night, and pay no worship to the garish sun.”

He falls silent and looks up.

“Shakespeare,” Christina murmurs back to him when they finish. She’s smiling softly, and she doesn’t look pitying, or like she’s suddenly understanding the “entire experience” or whatever. She just looks… strong. Supportive. He’s overcome with how much he _loves_ her all of a sudden, his brother’s fiancée, his sister.

He wants to imagine that he communicates all of this when they look at one another, but then he sneezes and the moment is broken with laughter, however teary from his parents.

He gets candy in his stocking and well-intended but not well-thought-out gifts from his brothers before his stomach churns again and he finds himself in the bathroom, dry-heaving while bile burns in his mouth.

It’s the worst Christmas he’s had and it aches to know it might be his last Christmas.

Leaning his head against the cool wood of the counters, Luke tries to focus on the positive because moping won’t be good for his final months, maybe years if he’s lucky, of life. He wants to have a euphoric, childlike Christmas like when he was little and he and his brothers would wake up early and wake each other up just to sit on the floor of the living room and eat candy together while they stared at their presents, not allowed to open them until mum and dad woke up. He wants another Christmas where he finally gets a kitten and he wants another Christmas where he sits cuddled up with his parents while he figures out his newest toys and he wants another Christmas where he isn’t hugging the toilet and dying. He wants another Christmas where he’s a wide-eyed kid and he has his whole life in front of him instead of the heavy knowledge that his days, breaths and heartbeats are all numbered.

“Luke?”

He looks up, almost dozed off against the counter, to see Michael in the doorway, still wearing pajamas. He can hear Karen in the living room, laughing with his parents.

“Hi,” Luke mumbles, rubbing at his eyes.

Michael kneels down next to him, flushing the toilet and Luke shuts his eyes while he does, while Michael’s cool hand gently touches his forehead and brushes against his skin. “You don’t look too well.”

“Don’t feel it,” he says softly.

“You poor thing,” he murmurs, kissing his forehead. His hand is cupping Luke’s cheek, which feels nice because his hand is cool and his ring is chilled.

He hums a little, leaning into the touch.

“Do you need a doctor?”

“No,” Luke says immediately. It’s Christmas and even though his is wrecked and everyone is worried, he doesn’t want to outright ruin everyone else’s Christmas.

“If you get any worse, I’ll take you, okay?”

He nods, cuddling into Michael.

After a while, Luke agrees to move from the bathroom floor to his bedroom and cuddles up with Michael, getting another nap. It’s a little warm and he ends up pulling out of his arms and settling with holding his hand when he’s half asleep but it’s still better than sleeping in an empty bed all alone.

Luke wakes up, his hand mostly just resting on Michael’s, to the sound of Michael singing softly and he rubs at his eyes. It’s a little cooler in his room now, the fan turned on and blowing cool air. The breeze drifts over him and he can hardly hold back a little hum; it feels lovely. Michael stops singing and looks over at him, smiling a little and his cheeks flushing a little bit at being caught mid-note since he’s always been a little embarrassed of singing despite his beautiful voice.

“Good morning,” he says softly. “Well, afternoon.”

Luke nods, rubbing at his eyes. “How long have I been out?” He asks.

Michael glances over at the clock. “Like, two hours. Not that long, really. Do you feel any better?”

“Yeah, I feel better now.”

“Good. Calum and Ashton are coming to say hi tomorrow so you better feel all better.”

Luke sits up, grabbing his phone off the nightstand but effectively straddling Michael when he does. It reminds him of just how long it’s been since they last had sex and he wants to want it again but he just can’t. Not yet, anyway. “Oh, did they say a time? I wanted to pencil ‘feeling like shit’ in for three o’clock but now that you say that, I’ll have to rework my entire schedule.”

Michael chuckles. “They said in the afternoon.”

“Oh, in that case, they’ll have to make it quick, I wanted to try doing some Boxing Day shopping before I have to feel like shit.”

Michael laughs and it’s the first time he’s smiled, laughed, honestly, since they were told Luke is going to die. He’s still smiling and Luke reaches out to touch it, touch his smile and the little lines it created on his cheeks and beside his eyes, where one day he’ll develop wrinkles from smiling so much and he’ll be an old man, maybe with grandchildren and he’ll have someone who will make him laugh. And it won’t be Luke. His chest aches as he realizes it, that he’ll never grow old with Michael and he’ll never have wrinkles and it wasn’t as though he particularly wanted them. He just expected them.

Michael notices, probably watches the smile slide off his face and notes his lack of reaction to whatever response he murmured. “You okay?” He asks, smile replaced by a worried expression and Luke’s fingers are still beside his eyes and his mouth, trying to grasp onto those lines from smiling and pull them back.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

Michael’s hand touches his own, squeezes gently. “What’s on your mind?”

Luke leans down and kisses his cheek. “Nothing, I just spaced out.”

(He knows they should start talking about what they’re thinking about in relation to Luke’s upcoming, premature death but it’s hard because the wound is still so fresh. He doesn’t want to talk about it and have Michael crying but he thinks it might be healthier if they spoke about it.)

Michael pulls him close. “I love you. Merry Christmas.”

“I love you too and Merry Christmas.”

Christmas goes better after that, the usual way that Christmases go after the exciting morning of giving and receiving presents. They have their regular Christmas dinner, though Luke really just has a small bowl of rice along with ginger ale because he isn’t sure he could stomach the seafood the rest of his family is eating. They spend the evening together, everyone except Michael and Luke drinking (Luke because it might kill him – Michael out of solidarity), before they turn in to bed when Luke starts falling asleep against Michael.

Luke wakes up feeling better the next morning, nausea lessened after a night of sleep, but he doesn’t dare try to eat too much or something that would upset his stomach. He showers, which feels nice, and dresses before Ashton and Calum come over; Ashton has his new prosthetic and he shows it off, trying to smile about it while Calum unknowingly shows off his brown skin, darkened from time spent in the sun surfing or something.

The four of them curl up in the basement where it’s marginally cooler than upstairs and they play video games together. Ashton and Michael bicker over who gets to be player one – Ashton arguing he should because he’s older (the same argument that Jack and Ben always used against Luke when they were younger) and Michael arguing it should be him because he’s more familiar with this console. Calum mediates the fight while Luke sips water and reminds them that this is his house and he should be player one, which causes them to immediately quiet down and agree with him. He delegates player one onto Calum since he mediated the fight and it wasn’t like picking sides between Ashton and Michael.

They play for a few hours, deciding between mumbled expletives that they’ll spend New Year’s together since Luke didn’t really want to stick around for his parents’ normal celebration which involved far too much champagne and this year, definitely some tears.

Ashton and Luke are sitting on the couch, Calum and Michael gone to get more food, and Ashton scoots over, wrapping his arms around Luke and nuzzling into his chest. Luke chuckles and wraps his arms around Ashton. The basement is cool enough to cuddle in and Ashton usually has a reason for cuddling.

“Please don’t die,” Ashton whispers.

It reopens an old wound and Luke bites down on his lip hard, running a hand over Ashton’s patchy hair to soothe him. “I’m sorry,” he says in the same hushed tone, with the same heartbreaking abilities.

Ashton shakes his head and pulls Luke closer, his arms tight. “You can’t. I won’t allow it.”

He’s trying to make a joke out of it but it doesn’t sound like it; the delivery is more like a plea than a tease. “Ash…”

“Who will be my hospital buddy? Calum doesn’t get it, Lauren and Harry will never get it and I won’t have you anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“I really hope this stupid drug starts working and you get better because you have a lot you’d leave behind and I need you.”

Luke doesn’t know what to say because he’s pretty sure that the drug won’t work and he’s pretty sure that he’s going to die before he reaches thirty, probably before he even gets the chance to marry Michael. All he can do is press a kiss to the top of Ashton’s head.

“Please,” Ashton whispers.

“I wish I could stop it,” Luke murmurs. “I’m sorry.”

Ashton pulls away and looks at him, his arms still wrapped tight around him. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t be mourning you already. You’re still here.”

Luke smiles a little bit. “It’s okay.”

Ashton grins, pulling all the way away and reaching for Calum as both of them walk back in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	44. 11 174 526m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh so quick warning here at the beginning for suicide ideation in this chapter. if that's something that gets you really upset, feel free to message me on tumblr and i'll give you the low-down of the chapter so you don't need to read it. other than that, enjoy!

Luke and Michael go home late on Boxing Day and Luke falls asleep in the car, Michael carrying him into their flat and to bed before they cuddle up together. It scares Luke a little bit because Michael couldn’t carry him before, especially not all the way up to their flat, and it makes him realize just how much weight he’s lost and just how weak he’s really become.

In the next few days before New Year’s Eve, Luke develops a cough he’s sure is a side-effect from the drug he’s on and he feels foggy, which really actually isn’t that new. Once he got back to school and the weight of what he missed hit him he found it hard to concentrate, hard to learn new material. Things didn’t make sense anymore and it’s lingered. He doesn’t like it at all, this reminder of the consequences of his recurrence, as if huge, deadly white blood cells aren’t enough to deal with, and he makes an appointment to see his doctor in a week since he was supposed to have a checkup anyways and he can talk about the nastier side-effects if they’re still around by then. The cough might be a cold and he might get over it (he wouldn’t – he’d get worse and worse until he maybe gets better. He knows that his immune system is shot to hell, but he’s trying to have a positive outlook).

On New Year’s Eve, Luke gets ready to go out while Michael stresses that he can stay home if he doesn’t feel well and Luke insisting that he feels fine. They have pizza, the first greasy thing Luke has allowed himself to have since getting out of the hospital, where he was fed healthy food and wasn’t even allowed more than one salt packet per meal (except by the really nice nurses) as though preventing heart disease was an issue when Luke won’t live to see that diagnosis. After pizza, which feels moderately normal, they go out into town to watch the fireworks from the beach with everyone else, Calum and Michael bringing coolers along with them.

Because the sand is hard for Ashton and Luke is worried that if he has to lower himself down far enough to sit on the ground he might faint, they grab one of the remaining picnic tables and set up. Luke and Ashton cuddle into Calum and Michael while they catch their breath, Luke sweating a little and coughing. It prompts another bout of inquiries into how he feels and he decides to take a walk, just down to the water, he promises.

Just down to the water isn’t what ends up happening and he finds himself back into the city and on a pedestrian sidewalk of a bridge, resting all his way up to the peak of it until he stops, dead centre, where he’s highest and furthest from the water.

It’s dark now and the water is reflecting the stars and the moon in its infinite blackness and, panting softly as he recovers from the long walk here, Luke stares down into it. Walking here wasn’t a good idea and it took him a good ten minutes just to get here and he doesn’t want to go back by walking. He wishes he had the car with him. He wishes he could teleport.

Luke presses against the guardrail of the bridge, allowing everyone else to come and go and he can feel some of their odd looks. He must look like a tourist, looking out at the water of Sydney Harbour and staying pressed into one spot. The only other thing that could make it would be if he were snapping photos.

He catches a snippet of someone’s conversation after they spot him, hearing them quietly inquire if he was a jumper and it makes him think more. He looks like an anonymous tourist or a jumper and it makes him a little bit happy that all these people around him don’t know him.

It would just be so easy.

Luke knows it would be easy, quick, to climb over the guardrail and jump, quick, easy and maybe even a little bit exhilarating, before anyone could catch him or talk him down and he’d be dead just like that. There’d be no more needles, no more treatment. He wouldn’t have to endure anymore days of dizziness, throwing up everything he ate, feeling like he’s hardly even human some days because of how absolutely shitty he feels. He wouldn’t have to wonder if a new symptom was from the meds or from something more serious.

It could all be over in a few seconds.

He has to admit that it’s tempting because he knows he’s high up and he knows that death would be pretty much instant. It wouldn’t be long and drawn-out and maybe it would be painless. Maybe he’d even pass out on the way down, his already frail body unable to take the strain. The impact that would break most people would shatter him, he knows. He wouldn’t have to worry about his family and his dignity during the process of dying, where he’s hospitalized and maybe he can’t get up without fainting or he gives up treatment and just decays.

It would be so easy.

He wants to do it, just a bit. It’s not that he wants to die, not really, otherwise he just would have gone off treatment altogether, but he also doesn’t want to live the life that he has, pain and misery everything slowly fading away. Cancer is… ah, it’s “like a plane flying through a storm. Once you’re aboard there’s nothing you can do.” Golda Mier, he remembers after another moment of thought, and though it was a quote about old age, he feels like it applies just as well.

If he were dead, he wouldn’t have to put up with anymore wretched side effects. He wouldn’t have to watch his family watch him die. He wouldn’t have to die slowly anymore.

He knows that he won’t go through with it, the same as he knows he won’t live to see true adulthood or get a diploma. The railing may be a thin, laughable formality to someone determined to die. All the same, it stands insurmountable to him as Everest. Or staircases, for that matter.

Still, the idle fantasy is comforting, somehow – like flipping the bird to nature for his circumstances by even toying with the idea. Like quitting before your boss can tell you you’re fired. Cutting off your nose to spite your face. However many proverbs there were about vanity and spite and hubris in the face of the inevitable, and his prof made sure they knew that there were a lot.

It would be so easy.

He sighs and starts to pull away from his thoughts, the part of his brain that got him through so much suffering now screaming at him; a primal, wild thing left over from when Lucy the upright ape was ruled by pure instinct over complex thought, afraid of too much heat and places too high to survive the fall and an unexpected noise in the dark, desperately afraid of the long darkness ahead of everyone and determined to stay alive for as long as possible, and damn the cost. It’s the part of everyone’s psyche that has brought soldiers home from the front and enabled people to lift whole cars off of themselves and children to survive being pinned under metal and concrete for weeks without food or water beyond morning dew filthy with the dust from debris.

As he begins to come back to himself, he recognizes that maybe calling it a separate part of himself is unhealthy, but when the rest of him is cold and mostly numb, he remembers the way it warmed him like the alcohol he’d never get to drink, and something that strong doesn’t feel like it comes from him. Still, it had to, otherwise there was some sort of benevolent parasite that doesn’t want to die young.

It doesn’t matter either way, because he _pulls_ on the memory of warmth until he realizes that fire only burns for those who let it get out of control, and that he’s far too weak to do much more than smolder, that even at the peak he would only manage to singe the people around him, not burn them outright. He considers this, and smiles, and the tight coil in his belly doesn’t quite loosen, but it deflates just a little.

He’s right on the edge of an epiphany when a voice comes from behind him.

“Luke.”

He looks up from the water and he realizes only now how hard his hands are holding onto the guardrail. “Ashton.”

He limps up the sidewalk, wincing, and Luke’s cool consideration of his fate abruptly flees, and the guilt of fantasizing about his death compounds how bad he feels that he got chased up here by Ashton of all people. “What are you doing up here?” The words come out in a huff between breaths, leaving Ashton panting that much harder in their wake.

He feels like scum.

“I – I went for a walk. Ended up here, I guess.”

“Michael’s been worrying,” Ashton says as he finally comes to rest next to him, leaning against the guardrail to catch his breath and rest his leg. “He said he’d follow you, find you, but I offered.”

Luke stays quiet and he knows he should respond with an apology that it took so long, that he’s been gone for so long, but he doesn’t know how, the words that came so easily in his mind slipping away into the dark when he tries to give them shape.

“So, what are you doing?”

He shrugs, trying not to look back down at the water. It’s a warm night – and the foil to his survival instinct, dull and chrome in comparison, whispers that even if he didn’t die on impact, he’d drown in the cool water and it might feel nice to be immersed when he’s sweating. He shakes the thought away again.

“Acting like a tourist? Looking at the beauties of the harbour?”

Luke still stays quiet because he doesn’t know if he should just admit the fact that ending his life premature to his already premature death is far too tempting.

Ashton’s back straightens while he pushes out another lungful of air, slow now, like the air from a tyre instead of a balloon. His eyes are sharp like flint and ice and Luke reminds himself that he likes life’s fire far more than death before the words come from Ashton’s mouth.

“Luke, what are you doing up here?”

He glances down at the water. It’s too hard to say.

Ashton follows his gaze and in an instant he understands. “No.”

Luke looks away, avoiding Ashton’s gaze as if it’ll stop the guilt.

“Absolutely not,” Ashton says, sternly, in the same way Luke has heard him speak to his younger siblings.

“Why?” Luke mutters, petulant. Playing devil’s advocate out of some fucked up sense of curiosity, as if his resolve to survive a little longer is nothing without outside confirmation. “It would be quick, I wouldn’t have to suffer.”

“Michael. How would he feel if you killed yourself before he had a chance to tell you he loves you one last time? And your mum. Your dad. Your brothers.”

Luke shuts his eyes tight while he slams back into reality – he hadn’t even realized he’d distanced himself for a while there – gripping the rail and shaking his head in an attempt to calm the little whimper in his throat. He doesn’t want to think about them.

“Luke, you can’t fucking jump,” Ashton says. “I’ve thought about it, trust me, it’s so tempting. But you might still get better and even if it’s a one percent chance, that’s still a chance! Your family and all your friends will be left wondering if, maybe you stuck around just a little longer, you would’ve lived. There’s still a chance.”

He shakes his head again, vigorously this time as he stares out at the water in sadness and frustration, as Ashton stokes the coals gone cold months before and tries his hardest not to cry. Ashton may be close to the truth of it all, that he’s just starting to suspect, but still too far off to see the whole picture. “No.”

No, he doesn’t want to off himself. No, he doesn’t want to disappoint his family.

“Did you even look up the studies of the drug you’re on? Eighty percent of people reached _full_ remission, Luke.”

He hadn’t. The doctors had told him, but he kept thinking about the twenty percent, such a large number when he remembers all the other tiny percentages he belongs to, as a bisexual man engaged to his childhood sweetheart dying of cancer, so he had to push it away.

It sounds so hopeful that he’s reminded of Children’s Hospital when he was fifteen. He was so scared but he was so optimistic and ready to beat cancer. He was so sure he’d see his twentieth birthday, his thirtieth and maybe all the way up to eighty, maybe a little early because of all the long-term effects from chemo. He was so sure that he’d be okay.

He clutches the rail, still cool, and whimpers, shutting his eyes. At fifteen, he thought that in four years he’d be in university, cancer-free and able to speak about his experiences without fear that it would come back to kill him.

“Luke,” Ashton says softly, stepping closer to him. The bridge doesn’t have all that much traffic but the people who are using it are giving them looks and Luke can feel it. “Please.”

Luke watches the water and it’s murky and dark, not at all the bright blue it is when the sun is shining and the kind of bright blue that Michael says resembles his eyes. It’s the kind of water he could get lost in, he thinks, tears blurring his eyes and the image of the water.

_Ashton thinks I’m going to jump. He thinks that I could jump while he’s here, watching me._

It makes him indignant, upset, that Ashton thinks he could do something like that to him, but he doesn’t want to sound like he’s just going “haha, sike!”

Ashton lays his hand on Luke’s back and that decides it it. The gratefulness he feels for Ashton is too much and a hug is too little; he leans over and kisses Ashton and it lasts for maybe a second before Ashton pulls away and just folds Luke into his chest. Even though Luke is taller, broader, he feels smaller wrapped up in Ashton’s arms as he starts to cry. It isn’t a small weeping cry – it’s a shoulder-wracking full-out sob, messy and heartbreaking.

“I-I wasn’t going to jump,” he sobs roughly, he _had_ to let Ashton know, he _had_ to know he didn’t have a full-blown death wish and that he didn’t need to spend the last of his days in a therapist’s office. “I ju-just – it was an intrusive thou-thought. I can’t just – I would _never_ just leave you all like-like tha-at. I don’t want to die, I want to get old and get married and – and… I _won’t_ , Ash, I won’t, I promise, I promise.”

Ashton just holds him for the longest time, murmuring encouragements and little positive things until Luke stops crying and stops wanting to so badly jump off the bridge in spite of it all.

“Are you okay?” Ashton asks softly when Luke pulls away and wipes at his face with the collar of his shirt.

He nods, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m all right.”

“Are you going to tell Michael?”

Luke sighs mostly because he doesn’t want Michael to know about this; it’ll break his heart. “I probably have to.”

Ashton nods and wraps an arm around his shoulders, starting to walk back down the bridge and Luke doesn’t want to walk all the way back. He’s exhausted and he just wants to sleep. He doesn’t even care about the New Year anymore since he might not live to see all of it and he’s tired and he wants to cuddle up with his fiancé and sleep for a very long time. Maybe he wants to sleep until he dies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	45. 9 926 552m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is dedicated to calum hood even tho he hardly appears in it. happy 20th to calum!

After New Year’s, Michael holds Luke a little bit closer. He tries to make it a little bit better for him, brings him little gifts when he can get them and tries to make him smile more often. He works a lot, picking up overtime and offering to help close the restaurant when he can and trying to find a second job just to make ends meet. His parents send money and he, along with Calum and Ashton, decide to take the first semester off school while Luke has dropped it completely for his health since the stress could kill him faster. When he isn’t working, he’s at home with Luke, not sleeping and trying to make things normal even though they’re the complete opposite.

Liz and Andy call every night to check in on Luke and they always send love to Michael as well. Ben and Jack check in sporadically, Michael’s parents call more often than they used to and Michael continues his dalliance with cigarettes even though he shouldn’t.

It’s normal – almost – for a month.

Calum turns twenty and Michael drinks his head off and Ashton has a few sips of something, trying to side with Luke who still can’t drink and probably will never be able to again but also celebrating his own wellness with a physical indication like drinking.

Luke returns to the support group with Ashton and comes back marginally better. He gets more antidepressants and he stabilizes mentally. His blood work is coming back with promising results, the leukemic blast cells reduced and Michael just hopes as hard as he can that the drug is working and Luke’s in the one percent, that he’ll live.

It’s good – almost – for a month.

Michael wakes up early since he works at noon and he wants to spend time with Luke before he has to go. Maybe he’ll read to him for a while, since he hasn’t done that for a few months at least, and he makes tea and breakfast while Luke showers. He grabs plates while the omelet cooks, even though ‘omelet’ is a loose term now that it could be described better as scrambled eggs that weren’t stirred around and forced into a shape that’s reminiscent of a semi-circle with some green onion and cheese tossed on top. It’s an attempt, really, and even if it isn’t aesthetically pleasing it’ll still taste good and the bacon might make up for it.

The bathroom door opens. “I’m just getting dressed,” Luke says over the collective sound of the bathroom and kitchen fans.

“Okay, breakfast is almost ready,” Michael says, listening to the bedroom door closes.

He grabs plates and he starts to serve, pouring the tea into two mugs and fixing it how they both like before putting the food on plates. He starts clearing up a bit, just leaving the pan to presoak and wiping up the bit of egg that spilled when he was getting it in the pan. He waits for Luke, patiently, and goes to knock on the bedroom door.

“Babe, breakfast is served,” he says.

His response is a quiet grunt and Michael doesn’t feel quite right about it and he opens the door. Luke is on the bed, his eyes unfocused as he rubs over his face and looks at Michael.

“What happened?” Michael asks, his hand already gravitating towards his back pocket for his phone. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t – I don’t know,” Luke stammers, rubbing at his forehead.

“What do you last remember?” Michael asks, going over to him and kneeling in front of him, resting his hand on his knee.

“Uh, coming here.”

“Into the bedroom?”

Luke nods and Michael glances at the time. It’s nearly five minutes completely blank in Luke’s memory and Luke fumbles for his hand, grabbing it and clutching.

He doesn’t seem to be in any immediate danger and Mrs. Baker is always nosy so Michael gets Luke water and takes him to the car to drive him to the hospital himself. Their breakfast stays on the table, the grease on the bacon left to congeal and the eggs and tea going cold.

Michael sits in the waiting room for a while, texting Liz and Andy that he had to take Luke to the hospital before he goes outside, just for a minute, and calls his mum. He hasn’t had much time to speak with her since he works so often and the rest of his free time is spent with Luke and he kind of misses it. Liz definitely acts like a mother towards him, hugging him and calling him sweetheart, but he misses his own mum and he misses being a little kid.

“Hey, is everything okay?” His mum asks when she answers. She’s probably at work and she’s probably worried that Luke died or something.

“Yeah, everything is okay,” he says softly. “I had to bring Luke to the hospital.”

“What happened? Is he okay?”

“I think he’s fine, I don’t know what happened yet.”

“And you’re okay?”

Michael sighs. He wants a smoke. “I’m okay. I was looking forward to a calm morning before I have to work for eight hours, plus overtime, so that sucks but I’m okay. I know Luke is okay and that’s what matters.”

“You should get out more, love. Your whole life seems to be work and taking care of Luke.”

He bites his lip. “He’s sick. He got put on some other thing last week to help with what he’s taking, he’s really sick.”

“I know, love, I know. But you’re going to get yourself sick too. This is a lot of stress you’re putting on yourself. Why don’t you two come home for a bit? Act like you’re both in high school again and sneak out your window and come back before you think I notice…”

He chuckles. “You noticed?”

“Of course. A mother notices when her highly ungraceful son climbs out a window.”

“Ouch,” he teases, laughing.

She laughs softly. “I’m serious. Come spend some time at home, take a week off work. Liz has wanted to see Luke for a while now, Ben wants some help with some wedding stuff. It would be good, love.”

He nods. “I’ll bring it up with Luke when I see him.”

“All right. I should get back to work but give Luke my love and have fun at work later.”

“Yeah, thanks, you too. I love you.”

He hangs up after she tells him she loves him too and he’s met with Luke’s doctor, who informs he’s had a seizure and the complication Luke was brought in for last week had recurred and was a little worse, causing fever and low blood pressure. The seizure was caused by the drug he was on and it was up to Luke whether he wanted to continue taking it and he’d have to be kept overnight and maybe for part of tomorrow, just to monitor his symptoms and make sure he doesn’t have another seizure or nervous system related episode.

Michael goes back to his room with a warning that he was sharing it with another patient but a reassurance that the other patient was kind. He doesn’t have long until he has to go back to their flat and get ready for work and he’s sure Liz or Andy or someone will be here soon to keep Luke company.

Luke is pale but he’s awake and he’s fiddling with the blankets he’s all wrapped up in. “Hey, I’m sorry,” he says immediately when Michael walks in.

“For what?” Michael asks, sitting on the edge of the bed because he won’t be here all that long so sitting in the chair further away from Luke seems pointless.

“Ruining breakfast,” he murmurs. “Ruining like, lots of stuff.”

Michael kisses his forehead, which feels warmer than normal and he kicks himself for not realizing. “It’s okay, you haven’t ruined everything.”

Luke curls closer to him, shutting his eyes and Michael wraps an arm around him, squeezing his shoulder.

“I have work soon but your mum should be here shortly,” he says softly. “I love you lots, okay?”

“I love you too.”

“Once you’re out, do you want to go back home and spend some time there for a little while? It’ll be fun, you’ll have your family and I won’t have to work and we can act like we’re in high school again.”

Luke smiles just a little into his shoulder, nodding. “That sounds nice.”

“Okay, I’ll see you a little later then. I’ll bring some things for the night when I come back if your mum doesn’t already.”

“Okay, have fun at work.”

Michael pulls away, kissing him quickly before he leaves, heading back to their flat to clear up their breakfast plates.

 

Luke still hates hospitals and he hates big decisions and he hates that he can’t have someone he knows with him at all times in an adult hospital. He spends most of his evening with his head in Michael’s lap after his parents fought to extend his deadline for leaving the hospital from nine to ten, which is actually pretty nice because he finds he’s pretty drowsy. Michael read to him, a book that reads easily, has obvious plot twists and isn’t too heartbreaking, which suits all of his needs perfectly.

He finds he can’t sleep after a while, though, all thanks to the decision of whether or not to keep on taking the experimental drug or to switch to palliative chemo. He wants to continue on the experimental drug simply because it’s promising, his blood tests have all come back with hopeful results and it makes him wonder if he could reach a second remission with it. At the same time, he’s been feeling steadily terrible because of it since he started the treatment, the side effects restricting how much time he can spend with his friends and feel better, mentally.

Luke keeps reading because he feels sick, because he’s worried.

“Are you okay, kid?” The other man in the room asks. He was introduced earlier and learned his name was Henry and he told good jokes.

“Yeah,” Luke replies. “Sorry if I’m keeping you awake. I just don’t feel all that well.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

Luke is trying to remember the words for it because it was some unpleasant condition brought about by the drug.

“Sorry, that sounds awful,” Henry amends. “But you know what I mean.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, no worries, I know what you mean. A bad side effect. I had a seizure earlier, they said.”

“That sounds terrible, what caused that?”

“The drug I’m on. It’s some experimental thing and it’s been working but it’s also put me here so I have a decision to make.”

“You’ll have time to make that decision, son.”

His deep voice and thick accent remind Luke of his grandpa. “I don’t know if I do,” he admits quietly as his fingers toy with the corners of the pages.

“Why’s that?”

He sighs and puts his book in his lap decisively, looking up with a sardonic grin and a small shrug.

“I have to choose if I want to switch to palliative chemo or keep on this drug and if I don’t the leukemia could get worse. They were giving me something to help with the side effects of this but I guess it wasn’t enough. My blood counts were getting so much better too and to just give it up feels kind of like surrendering.”

“That sounds really tough, someone your age shouldn’t have to make a decision like that. Switching to the other thing isn’t surrender, though, because you’re always fighting.”

Luke nods and watches the page fold under his fingers.

“How old are you?”

“I’m nineteen,” Luke says.

“Oh, no,” Henry says. “You’re just a kid, you’ve got everything ahead of you.”

He breathes out a little morose chuckle. “Yeah… How old are you?”

“Seventy-four. My oldest grandchild is your age, her name’s Savannah.”

“That’s sweet,” he says softly. “So what got you in the oncology ward of a hospital?”

“Metastatic melanoma,” he says, then leans forward and, in full on mock-PSA mode, “Wear sunscreen.”

Luke chuckles. “I would if I had the time to like, potentially develop melanoma.”

“That’s just terrible,” Henry says around a yawn. “Cancer should be an old person’s disease, it shouldn’t touch anyone who isn’t done yet. That’s wrong, no one is ever really done, but it shouldn’t touch people who have entire lives ahead of them, you know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” Luke nods, trying not to think about how Henry’s face was lined with wrinkles and how he wouldn’t live to have any. At least his hair was coming back.

“You get some rest now, kid.”

Luke does. He sleeps well and he feels better in the morning and though he hasn’t come to a decision, which makes his meeting with his doctors a little awkward as they stress the importance of his decision. Luke’s parents visit in the afternoon and he goes for a walk with them, trying to clear his head and weigh his options. He wishes he could have someone who he could talk to about it without them crying but his mum always crumples when his illness is brought up and his dad excuses himself and it’s difficult.

On their walk, he sees a pair of men walking with a stroller and he watches them pause to quickly kiss as one of them ducks inside a store and Luke is struck with the fact that marriage and children, things he’d taken to be an expectation for his life, are all parts of a life that don’t belong to him. He and Michael could go to New Zealand, maybe, for a day just to get married but if they even thought about adopting, Luke would probably be gone by the time they got approved. And it would be cruel to bring a child, who falls so easily in love and gets attached, into a relationship with a terminally ill individual.

But God, Luke wants it. He wanted to have children and he wanted to get married. He wanted to have a job he loved where he could make a difference, maybe, and he wanted to come home to children and a spouse every day after work. (In his earliest fantasies, his spouse would be some faceless woman but over the years it’s morphed into Michael, his hair still eccentrically coloured and wedding bands on both their ring fingers.)

Luke wanted a life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	46. 7 297 439m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi friends! friendly reminder that if you have a question or concern about this fic to please contact me off anon on my tumblr! if you're not comfortable with that, i have kik or if that isn't an option, my email always is. i don't bite and i'm very happy to answer questions and concerns. (and since i have no social life, i'm kind of always online.) anyway, enjoy this chapter, i'm very excited for you all to see what's coming up!!!

Michael manages to wrangle a week off of work and he convinces Luke that going home is a good idea even though he’s losing a week’s worth of wages, money that goes towards keeping their fridge full and their rent paid. They leave their flat, which is getting a little messy due to the fact that Michael is too tired to clean and Luke is too sick to clean and standing for the amount of time that it would take would probably cause a fainting spell. They go home to their parents’ houses and coming home to be wrapped up in a hug from his mum feels good for Michael and getting taken care of and not having to worry so much about everything is nice.

Their first morning there, Michael goes over early for breakfast and he’s burdened with the task of waking Luke up; he doesn’t like it because sleep fights cancer and he’s clutching onto that one percent chance. He sits on the edge of his bed and looks at Luke for a minute, still asleep in the same bed where Michael caught him and Olivia kissing and the same bed where he’d found Luke asleep, like this, when he first got sick. Asleep, he looks so much younger and it’s impossible to think that he might be twenty in the winter.

To try to rouse him gently, Michael reaches over and brushes his hand through Luke’s hair, which is soft, but a little dirty all thanks to the chemo making it easily damaged and ruining any chance of Luke dyeing his hair. He missed his hair when it was gone and he’ll take it damaged and brittle over Luke frowning at his reflection and running a hand over his bald head. His hair looks now kind of like it did when they first met, short but long enough that it fell choppily over his forehead and Michael smiles a little at the memory of meeting Luke.

It’s been nine years since they met and when they first did and they first became friends over coinciding Star Wars obsessions and lemonade, Michael thought for sure that Luke was one of the cool kids. His hair, his smile and the way he spoke and held himself were all indicative of a kid who had always had the coolest gaming system and the most friends. Michael was sure that the minute school started Luke would drift into that crowd and leave him and Calum alone back to their usual way of life, which was really pretty okay. But Luke didn’t and he fell in love with Michael and he kind of wishes that he hadn’t assimilated so perfectly with their group so that Luke could be that kid he graduated with whose story was making the rounds on Facebook and Twitter and it would just prompt a minor burst of pity instead of this.

(Michael feels the way one does when they’re about to receive a shot, that same tense feeling where he knows he’s going to feel pain but he isn’t sure when it’ll come and he just kind of wants it over with. That’s not to say he wants Luke gone because he doesn’t, he just isn’t prepared for the emotional turmoil he’ll be put through. He really wants Luke to reach a second remission.)

Luke opens his eyes and blinks a few exhausted blinks, rubbing at his eyes after pulling his hand away from a book he was reading last night. It’s some assigned reading from his English course, a Nabokov novel that he’d been spending most of his illness dissecting which Michael doesn’t understand at all despite the quoted and regurgitated lessons from Luke’s professor.

“Morning, love,” Michael says softly, kissing his head.

“Hmm, morning,” Luke mumbles, still breathing those wonderful deep breaths that only happen directly after waking up and are somehow so refreshing and wonderful.

“Your dad told me to come wake you, breakfast is almost ready.”

Luke nods and rubs at his eyes.

“He actually told me to ‘wake the baby, will ya?’” Michael imitates Andy as best he can and Luke giggles sleepily.

“Absolutely perfect, you should do that for him,” Luke teases, knowing full well that Michael has always been a little scared of Andy. When Michael rolls his eyes teasingly, Luke continues, “I can’t believe he still calls me a baby, I’m almost twenty and I can drive on my own and I can drink and stuff.”

“You’re the youngest, that’s what makes you a baby.”

He chuckles, curling into Michael’s lap.

Michael brushes his fingers through his hair. “C’mon, breakfast is nearly ready,” he says.

Luke groans softly, pushing his face into Michael’s thigh and he’s reminded of all the times that he would wake Luke up for class, early as he soon learned, and this would happen and it would end in a blowjob. Instead, his groan isn’t because he has to _get up_ and _go to school_ and then _work_ but because standing up makes him dizzy and eating usually adds to his nausea.

“You can nap again afterwards, I’ll read to you or something,” Michael offers. “We’ll watch a movie, maybe.”

Luke hums and nods, forcing himself up slowly, spending a little bit of time just sitting on the edge of his bed before he pulls himself up, holding onto Michael’s arm. They eat breakfast with Luke’s family and curl up on the couch, Michael reading Luke the book he’d fallen asleep with.

 

The rest of their trip home is relaxing and Michael feels better equipped to go back to work after a few days of playing video games with Calum and Ashton and Michael not feeling like he has full responsibility for looking after Luke. On their last day, his mum and Liz team up to have a chat with him about moving back home, since he could always drive to work or get a different job, something closer, and the hospital really isn’t that far if they have to get there and Luke is pretty stable right now. They both say they would hire movers to take some strain off of them and Michael agrees to talk to Luke about it because it’s getting pretty ridiculous how absolutely stressed he is.

(There’s a half-formed plan in his head that he knows will net any job he’s interviewed for, that when they ask why he’d like to work there he can tell them that he needs to be there for his fiancé with all sorts of fatal multi-syllabic conditions that just _smart_ of medical jargon, and doing that at his current job wasn’t working out.)

They go back to their messy flat, Michael completely forgetting the amount of grime that’s been accumulating in their flat. Luke can’t clean, standing up for so long would just cause him to pass out and the cleaning products would probably kill him and Michael is so often at work, trying to get as much money as he possibly can and by the time he’s home he’s usually so focused on being with Luke and he’s too tired to really do anything.

The idea of moving back home is becoming increasingly appealing. Luke wouldn’t be alone when Michael was at work since he’ll have Pancake when his parents are at work, he’d be better taken care of and Michael would have so much stress taken off his shoulders. At this point, he’ll probably die from the burden he’s carrying before Luke has a chance to die from his illness.

The day after they return home, Luke has a well-timed meeting with his doctors about the following course of his care and then support group with Ashton and Michael doesn’t work until three, which means that their schedules will overlap for an hour before Michael has to leave. He showers, fixes his hair and frowns at how long it’s getting and how it’s fading to a gross ashy colour and his roots were starting to come through horribly. Hair dye is expensive and getting a haircut is expensive but maybe he can talk to Ben’s fiancée who’s studying to be a hair dresser.

As Michael is wondering how weird it would be to ask her to trim his hair, the door opens and slams shut and he pokes his head out of the bathroom. He’s done, he’s just been doing things to kill time and he steps out to watch Luke sit on the couch, arms folded tight across his chest.

“You okay?” He asks, tiptoeing out of the bathroom.

“Fine,” Luke bites out and Michael immediately knows that he isn’t.

He sits next to him, careful to not bother him and he assesses what could be wrong, if it’s emotional or physical and he gains from his ruddy cheeks and tight jaw is that it’s anger.

“What happened?” Michael asks, trying his best to be as calm and soothing as possible.

He watches Luke’s eyes dart away as he considers lying but he sighs, which relieves some of the tension in his shoulders, and he gives in. “Support group sucks.”

“How come?” Michael prods, knowing that Luke isn’t done.

“Just –” he sighs, “everyone else there is in remission or they’re going through treatment but they’ll live and it’s just so _awful_. Like, everyone there gets to talk about how great it is that they’re able to fight and they were able to win their fight and they all talk about bravery and shit like that and it just isn’t – it’s not fucking fair because I’m dying and I can hardly get a word in edgewise about how much that sucks. It’s supposed to make me feel better and it’s just making me pissed off.”

“You don’t have to keep going if it’s making you so upset.”

Luke nods and stands up, probably too quickly but he doesn’t seem to be affected. “It’s – this one girl kept going on about how her family are going on a vacation to celebrate her remission and everyone is talking like that. It’s a fucking group of people talking about what they’re doing now that they’re in remission and they’re all saying how glad they are that they won’t take this shit for granted now that they’ve been _close to death_ or something but they totally are.”

“Luke,” Michael soothes, knowing that if he gets too worked up he could faint.

“Like, _fuck_ , I wanted to go places but I fucking _can’t_ because I’m dying. I just – I wanted to get off this stupid fucking island!”

 _Country_ Michael thinks to correct but he stops himself before he can. It would get Luke angry at him and he knows that in a few hours, probably, Mrs. Barker will be over to ask if the two of them are okay and if they need anything.

“I just – I wanted to _see_ things and _go places_ ,” Luke says, his anger breaking into this pathetic little noise that snaps Michael’s heart. His face crumples and Michael wordlessly extends his arms for him.

Luke curls into his lap, trying his hardest to hold back tears but the result is just a sniffling whimper and all Michael can do is rub his back and try not to think about how bad this all is. Michael holds him, pets his hair and rubs his back and tells him he loves him until Luke is calm again.

“What do you think about moving back home?” Michael murmurs. He probably won’t get a better time than this.

“Hmm?” Luke asks, looking up at him with his face still all reddened from crying.

“Moving back home,” he says softly. “With our parents and stuff.”

Luke frowns, laying his head against Michael’s shoulder.

“Think about it for a while, you don’t need to decide now. I could get a different job, I wouldn’t have to work as much to pay rent on time, you’d have other people than just me. I’d be less stressed and you’d have people around you almost all the time, and if not you’d have Pancake.”

“Are you sure?”

Michael shrugs. “It would be better for both of us.”

After a half second, Luke nods tentatively. “If you think it would be better, then okay.”

Michael kisses his head to seal the deal, glad he’d gotten him to stop crying.

 

It’s easiest to say that Luke had a rough day. His appointment with his doctors which was for end-of-life decisions that ended in a conclusion that if his heart were to stop it would be illegal to resuscitate him was difficult. It’s so hard to think about dying in such simple terms and since he’s an adult he can’t have his parents beside him to hold his hand and coddle him through the weird terminology like when he was fifteen. After that, Ashton met him for lunch, which was probably the highlight of his day before going to support group. It was a giant let-down and it put him in a bad mood for probably the rest of the day.

Deciding to move back home relieves most of the guilt Luke’s been suffering; watching Michael lose weight and act more like a dying person than he is hasn’t been easy and to know that it’ll go away is making him feel a lot better. But he isn’t looking forward to maybe sleeping alone some nights, not that he doesn’t already when Michael is home late from work but they’re only a wall away instead of an entire street. He isn’t looking forward to a possible drift between them even though they haven’t been seeing very much of each other as it is.

It’s decided that Luke is under no circumstances allowed to help move, or even pack boxes. The flat is a mess and Michael spends the day clearing it up and getting Luke’s opinion on what’s trash and what’s not as he’s shuffled from room to room so Michael can dig under the couch and the bed. Eventually, Luke just sits on the floor by the boxes from the supermarket that they’re using that all smell sort of like produce and packaging and alternates between watching Michael flit around and checking his phone to keep himself occupied.

They’d decided upon staying primarily at Luke’s house, though Michael would go home to eat despite Luke’s mum insisting it was fine if he ate with them. Michael insisted that he felt bad since his parents were still paying the hefty medical bills from Luke’s extended hospital stays and he said that he’d be willing to give them a portion of his paychecks when he got a job but his mum refused on the grounds that Michael was family.

They move soon after, leaving the bustling city and a constant nearness to the ocean behind for their suburban houses which offer an aura of protection.

 

“It’s nice that you guys are closer now,” Ashton says, handing Luke a lemonade.

“Thanks,” Luke mumbles about the lemonade. “It’s nice to be closer now; it’s a lot better being home.”

He nods, limping his way back to the park bench they’d picked out to sit on. It was getting a little cooler now that it was March but Luke’s mum had been bothering him to get outside, get some fresh air, for a while now. And even though Luke was terrified that he would get sunburned and somehow that would do him in or maybe he’d contract some terrible disease just from touching a door handle, it felt good to be outside and he wasn’t too tired yet. It was also a good excuse to see Ashton, who was still learning the ropes of his prosthetic leg.

“Yeah, Michael seems to be doing way better,” Ashton comments. “And Calum is happier that it isn’t such a drive to see you two anymore.”

“Yeah, it’s really nice,” Luke says, taking a sip of his lemonade. “How long have you and Calum been dating now?”

“God, it’s been a year and like, three months.”

Luke chuckles. “Everything was so different back then.”

“Yeah. I still had two legs.”

“I was still well. I still thought I’d be able to get married in Australia.”

“You wanted to get married?”

Luke nods, glancing over as Ashton uncapped his iced tea. “Yeah, it was like, top of my bucket list, even though I don’t really _have_ a bucket list. I just wanted to get married in Australia, you know? And I can’t travel so it’s really my only option but it isn’t legal here.”

“Yeah, it fucking sucks,” Ashton sighs and takes a sip of it. “We’ve got a douche for a prime minister.”

“True. And sorry, I didn’t mean to make this into something sadder than it should be.”

“Hey, it’s no worry, you’re allowed to be sad about things.”

Luke takes a sip of his lemonade and takes a breath, reminding himself that he’s still here and he’s still alive and that’s a reason to not be sad. “My brother is getting married in a couple months.”

“That’s exciting, are you going?”

“Yeah, of course, he’s my brother.”

Ashton smiles. “That’ll be great, I hope it goes amazing.”

Luke nods, sitting back against the bench and letting the sun wash over him. He’d always been pasty, part of being a Hemmings, his dad said, but there were a few years he had a tan from going to the beach so often but he hasn’t been surfing in years and he kind of misses that feeling. He misses being out in the sun for hours on end until he came home and his skin was sun-kissed and it would look wonderful against his blond hair. He doesn’t miss the sunburns on his back and his face and the smell of aloe and how he would have to wait for what felt like forever before he could put a shirt on to go to bed.

They leave the park soon after, driving back to Luke’s house and Ashton stays until he turns into a sneezing, itchy-eyed mess from Pancake’s mere presence, leaving Luke alone with his cat until someone comes home from work.

Luke resolves on going through his desk drawer until he feels tired enough to sleep and then maybe reading until he falls asleep. He still has so many books from his English courses that are all really difficult, dense books but they’re also beautiful and maybe he wants to try and read them all before he dies. Pancake jumps onto his bed while Luke opens his desk drawer and pulls out a handful of birthday cards he felt obligated to keep since he thought that throwing them out was bad etiquette and probably a little rude.

He glances through a few of them and he can’t stop thinking about four months in the future, when it’ll be his twentieth birthday, and how badly he wants to get there. His doctors are guessing that he will and he’s almost sure of it too; he’s never felt this well while being sick. He flips idly through the cards before tucking them away into the trash. He can’t keep them forever and Michael’s scrawled handwriting in his eleventh birthday card was making him think of everything before being sick and before falling in love with Michael.

It’s also making him think, exhaustedly, about how so much emphasis is put upon the day someone is born since the exact day is celebrated every year and how the same amount of emphasis is put upon the day someone dies since a funeral is held days after they die. After a death, the bits in between are forgotten about and it isn’t a birth and a death that can neatly tie together someone’s life, Luke thinks as he climbs into bed and tries not to disturb Pancake.

Luke just hopes that once he dies his life isn’t given that same treatment and wrapped into two elegant little parcels labelled ‘birth’ and ‘death’. He just doesn’t want to be forgotten like that. Banksy has the right of it, he thinks fuzzily.

He doesn’t want to die twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	47. 50 751m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay woops i misnumbered my document i think this fic is only 50 chapters? that makes it over week after this but let's all enjoy it while we can! (this fic has gotten shorter in chapter count and longer in word count u guys wtf) but yes enjoy this scene, i love it!

Michael’s new job at the public library is possibly the best job he’s ever had (out of a possible two choices, but the point stands). It doesn’t open until ten which means that he never starts until at least ten and it’s a quiet job where he isn’t yelled at for bringing a huge order a few minutes slow. He stocks shelves and helps people set up getting a library card and takes inventory and it’s just… it’s easy. In the way that even being home isn’t anymore, even with living with his mum again, he thinks traitorously before viciously biting the sentiment back. Luke is angry enough for both of them, tone flipping from sleepy and fairly content to acidic and back again in an instant. He’d never really understood phrases like “spat like poison” until the word “cancer” burned his tongue, his fear twisting maliciously in his gut, or the idea of “eyes flashing” until he watched Luke looking at himself in the mirror every morning when he choked down a train of pills, determined and resigned all at once. He loves being with Luke, but the distance gives him time to ground himself again, so he doesn’t get swept away by the melancholy.

In comparison to that and his old job, the library is so much less stressful it’s almost laughable. He gets the opportunity to sit more often and the most difficult task he deals with is telling children not to “hurt the books” and then dealing with the occasional parent who sniped back that their kid “wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

He loves his job but he still loves his day off. He goes home to shower and get dressed and when he gets out of the shower, his towel wrapped around his waist as his hair drips onto his shoulders, he’s ambushed by Calum in his room. He looks up, looking totally at ease on Michael’s bed and like he’s been playing a lot of soccer with his extra time off, and he smiles.

“Good morning,” Calum says, sitting up. “I wondered if you were ever getting out of the shower.”

“Hey, Calum,” Michael says, as though this isn’t weird. “What are you doing here?”

Calum drew himself up, grinning, with a fist over his heart as he made his exaggeratedly formal announcement. “I am here to take you out, if you so wish.”

Michael sighs as he goes through his drawer, his towel growing heavy and cool against his legs and he tightens his grasp on it. He pulls out a shirt and boxers and pants. “Look, I’m really not in the mood to go out. I kind of just want to spend the day with Luke.”

“We’re getting there,” Calum says, slouching again. “So, Luke mentioned that he wanted to get married before he dies.”

The word makes him recoil. “He can’t travel and it’s not legal here.”

“Uh-huh, but –”

“Can I get dressed first?”

Calum nods and clears out of the room while Michael gets dressed and scrubs at his head with the towel so it stops dripping on his shoulders. He emerges when he’s done and Calum smiles at him.

“Okay, so it isn’t legal here and it won’t be legal until the government passes a bill into law and so on, right?” Calum says.

“Yeah,” Michael says, going to the bathroom to fix his hair and Calum follows him.

“You know what they do in the States? In the places it wasn’t legal and in places it still isn’t and stuff?”

“What do they do, Calum?” Michael asks with a tinge of exasperation.

Calum doesn’t pick up on his exasperation and goes on, his excitement unchecked. “So, a lot of the time, a friend will go online and become an ordained minister and then marry them. Of course, it isn’t legal and it doesn’t come with all the legal perks that a regular marriage would but it would be something.”

Michael looks at him, his fingers pausing in the midst of sorting out his fringe and he pauses, looking at Calum’s eyes shining in joy. “Go on.”

“Ash found a site where he can get one of those ordained minister things and he knows that Luke wants to do it but we need to be sure that you do, too,” Calum says. “Ash wanted it to be a surprise for Luke, too, so he doesn’t get all worked up about it.”

“You guys are planning our wedding?” Michael asks and Calum nods. “We can get married?”

Calum nods again. “Yeah, you can. It could just be a thing for the two of you instead of getting everyone all involved like Ben’s done so no family and no fancy planning and just – yeah.”

“Luke would love that,” Michael says quietly. Luke has mentioned getting married a few times, in passing, and each time with a wistful look in his eyes like he knew that he would never get a wedding and the announcement of Ben’s wedding has increased that melancholy tenfold. Michael can’t heal Luke and it’s pretty obvious at this point that no one can but maybe he could give him this and it would be better for the both of them.

“Yeah, he would,” Calum smiles. “So is that a yes?”

Michael smiles and gives Calum a look. “Who said I wanted you to plan my wedding?”

“Uh, the fact we’ve been best friends since we were kids and I know how much you love Luke.”

He laughs. “What am I agreeing to do today if I say yes to you?”

“Ring shopping,” Calum says, his excitement faltering a little bit. “I know you don’t have a whole lot of money but I do and I’m going to pay for part of it.”

“Calum…”

“Nope, a wedding can’t happen without rings and I am making this happen, dammit. Pay me back by calming me down when it’s my turn, yeah?”

Michael nods with a smile and sighs. “Just let me fix my hair and we’ll go.”

Within the hour, they’ve been to all the jewelry shops in the immediate area, mistaken for a dating couple and offered dozens of diamond-adorned ‘princess’ rings and necklaces all while the salesperson asked who the lucky lady was and Michael had to awkwardly explain that it was for his boyfriend. Michael compares the rings to his and they finally decide, at the last store, on a pair of silver rings that are really very plain but their simplicity comes with the added bonus of a smaller price tag.

They go back home and Michael thanks Calum profusely for the opportunity to do all of this and after Calum leaves, Michael stashes the rings away in his room before he goes over to Luke’s. His family isn’t home yet and Pancake looks up sleepily from where she’s sleeping on the scratching post before she surmises that he isn’t a threat and puts her head back down. Michael pats her on the head and walks to Luke’s room, the only bedroom downstairs. He’d had the choice between the downstairs bedroom or the last room upstairs, which was significantly smaller, and though he chose the one downstairs, Luke apparently hated it for the first year they lived in this house.

Michael knocks once, softly, on Luke’s door, a sound he’ll catch if he’s awake and one that won’t rouse him if he’s already asleep, and pushes the door open gently. Luke is asleep, as he normally is these days, and his copy of _Pale Fire_ is strewn on the floor near his hand, which was hanging just off the bed. He fell asleep reading again.

Michael goes over, trying to be as quiet as possible because Luke will either sleep so deeply that he worries he’s died or he’ll sleep so lightly that the rain will wake him up. It’s becoming the former more often than the latter occurs and it’s all just the illness and the medicine instead of relaxation, and that’s just another one of the injustices he’ll have to ignore so he doesn’t go insane.

Luke is one of the loveliest and smartest people that Michael knows, even though he should save these superlatives for his eulogy at Luke’s funeral, a time and an event he’s trying his hardest to not think about occurring for at least another infinite amount of time. It’s just that at first glance Michael always thought that Luke was so cool and cool was usually synonymous with unintelligent – at ten years old, intelligence was everything because Michael was so sure he was smarter than everyone in his grade for his love of Green Day and Blink-182 instead of pop singers. He was proved wrong. Luke was smart and his grades remained higher than Michael’s for most of their time in high school and his GPA remained stellar in university.

Luke had a knack for English that Michael just didn’t have but it was all disintegrating from the chemo and from the illness. He couldn’t focus for very long and he usually ended up falling asleep and the notes he was making in his book were becoming increasingly tenuous and sloppy.

Michael kisses his head and puts the book on the night table next to his bed.

 

Luke finds it a little hard to help Ben with wedding plans out of a puerile bitterness that his brother is getting married and he isn’t and he never will. Maybe he’s letting this get in the way of helping Ben plan and maybe he’s trying to come up with increasingly weak excuses to get out of it but eventually his guilt catches up to him and he makes himself help Ben with wedding planning. It’s relatively easy, just opinion-based things and creating little debates about the simplest thing like the boutonniere that Ben will wear, and it doesn’t really take long and it eats up some time that Luke would normally spend alone trying to sleep without Michael next to him.

Once they’re done, Luke goes about starting himself tea. “Hey, are you heading home soon?”

“Yeah, in about an hour,” Ben says. “Everything all right?”

“I’m fine, just wondering when you’re going.”

“So how are things at home?” Ben asks.

Luke pours the water into his mug and tugs at the little teabag string as he shrugs. “Same old, same old. It gets kind of boring with nothing to do so I think I’m getting a little stir crazy and I kind of want a job but I can’t. I also want to go back to school but – again – I can’t.”

“That sucks,” he says. “You should find a hobby, maybe take up knitting or something.”

Luke turns and gives Ben a deadpan look, which makes him laugh. “Knitting? Do I look like a grandmother to you?” Luke asks, the laughter spreading to him as well.

“I don’t know, it’s something to do other than – what are you even doing now?”

“I’m just reading books that we were assigned in class. It’s something to do.”

“Oh yeah, did you ever complete first year?”

“Not really, they gave me my final marks a while ago and they just excused me from the exams.”

“That’s good, then, at least you have that.”

Luke shrugs. “One of my teachers at the start of term said something like ‘the exam is mandatory unless, of course, you find yourself dying in which case you need not write it’.” The conversation I had with the registrar for late withdrawal was the most funny for like, an entire week.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. Like ‘Hey I, uh, my name is Luke Hemmings and I need to be withdrawn from my courses?’”

He stopped to clear his throat and effected a higher pitched, condescending voice.

“‘Okay, I have your info pulled up here, you know that you can’t just drop your courses because you might fail? You need a significant reason to drop the semester, like an email of a doctor’s diagnosis of pneumonia or something to the office or a death certificate if a family member died and the like.”

Luke paused again, grinning widely, if a bit meanly, at the memory. “I was having one of my worse days at the hospital, you see, and the opportunity was right there, and so very, very tempting.”

Ben’s face went from vaguely disapproving of the guy on the phone to eyes wide with shock, mouth slowly twitching into a grin of delight. “Luke, you _didn’t_!”

“Oh, but I _did_.” Luke crowed from his spot in the room, spinning around and getting his hands in on the storytelling, gesturing with an impressive amount of energy. “It was like, ‘Yeah that won’t be too much of a problem, I mean I may not be able to manage the death certificate for a couple months, but from the way doctors are looking at me from outside the room _as if I can’t see you guys!_ It probably won’t be too long. I have leukemia, you see.’ Oh man, you should’ve heard him _sputter!_ They had to get someone else on the line to finish changing my status on the registry while he calmed down!”

“Man, you’ve turned vindictive, Luke!”

“Hey, I did feel a bit bad for him though, so I told the lady to tell him I was sorry for picking on him like that and he just made an easy target for frustration, she told me it was cool, so I don’t worry too much about it.”

Ben lost it then, clutching his side and laughing hard enough to startle Pancake out of the room.

Ben’s laughter turns to chuckles as Luke sits down with him again, taking a moment to recover from the shift in dizziness. “Yeah, how’s your health doing?”

“It’s doing all right, I guess. The palliative chemo seems to be working to keep me alive and, yeah, I’m doing well.”

“Do they know how long it’ll last being good like this?” Ben’s always taken a very adult approach to Luke being sick, having been an adult when he was diagnosed and probably learning quite a bit from their parents.

Luke shakes his head. “I don’t think they really know at this point. Personally, I feel like I could easily live another ten years but I know that’s probably not possible. They said that what’s most likely to kill me is like, a complication like getting a really bad cold or something like that.”

Ben smiles a little. “You’ll be okay for May?”

“I wouldn’t miss your wedding for the world.”

Ben smiles and he doesn’t stay for much longer after he finishes his tea and Luke gets it, he has a lot of things to be doing and Luke is fine with it. Maybe being alone for a while will make him feel more independent and maybe that will mean he feels better, less sick. His mum doesn’t get off work for another few hours and Michael said he was off at around the same time as his mum so he has a few hours before he’ll be around people again. Hopefully he won’t sleep it all away like he’s been prone to doing.

It doesn’t take long for Luke to get bored with watching movies and playing video games on his own is never as fun as when he plays them with someone else and just when he’s thinking of having a bath and a nap, there’s a knock on the door. It’s probably someone delivering a parcel that his mum bought or something but he can sign for it.

Opening the door reveals that it isn’t a parcel but it’s Ashton, dressed nicely in a plain suit and smiling. “Hey.”

Luke has so many questions but, “Hey,” seems to suffice instead of asking them.

“Let’s get you dressed, you’ve got a very important little while ahead of you.”

“Uh, why?” Luke asks, following as Ashton grabs his arm and leads him back to his room. “Are you okay to be here? Pancake might ruin your suits and make you sneeze all day.”

“I took an antihistamine,” Ashton says, opening his closet. “Do you have a preference for what you wear?”

“Where am I going?” Luke asks. He doesn’t quite like being tossed into social settings without having some time to preserve all of his energy to use at said social event and he worries if his hair is too dirty to go out.

“It’s a surprise until we get there,” Ashton says, pulling out Luke’s suit and handing it to him.

“How many people will be there?” Luke mumbles, looking at the suit and eyeing the size. It’ll probably hang off him at this point.

“Just a few and I promise that you know them and you like them.”

Luke squints at him. He doesn’t know that very many people – since he’s been sick some of the weaker friendships have fallen through – and he doesn’t really like that many people, either.

“I trust you know how to tie a tie,” Ashton smirks. “I’ll leave you to get changed, then.”

Ashton steps into the hall and Luke stares down at his suit, wondering if refusing to put it on and go out will save him from seeing whoever he’ll be seeing and doing whatever he’s apparently doing. It would be petulant and Luke manages to strip out of his sweatpants and Michael’s Green Day shirt which isn’t big enough in the shoulders and into his suit. It doesn’t fit as poorly as he thought it would but it’s not as sharp as it used to be and it isn’t a big deal but it’s a bit of a disappointment. He fixes his hair and it manages to look okay even though it’s unwashed, and he ties his tie before he steps into the hall with Ashton.

“Where are we going?” He asks as Ashton leads him out to his car.

“The beach, but that’s all I’m saying,” Ashton says, giving him a wide, happy smile.

Luke pouts at him as they drive and Ashton plays Bruno Mars’ “Marry You”. “Can I please have some context, Ashton?” He sighs. It’s a half hour to the beach and if they’re playing “Marry You” on a loop then Luke might just curl up and die right here.

“Listen to the song, Luke,” Ashton says. He hasn’t really stopped wearing this shit eating grin since he showed up and Luke doesn’t know how to interpret it.

“A wedding?” Luke guesses a few more seconds into the song.

“Yep.”

“Who?”

“You’ll see.”

“Ash,” Luke whines, leaning against the window. “I got _all_ dressed up and I even did my hair for you even though I didn’t feel like going out today. _Please_ tell me where we’re going.”

“You’re forgetting that I helped raise my siblings, Luke,” Ashton chuckles. “But it isn’t much longer until we’re there, you think you can wait another ten minutes?”

Luke sticks his bottom lip out. “You’re forgetting I’m the youngest child and I know how to sway people with just one look.”

“Uh-huh. Quiet down and wait for another ten minutes, I promise you’ll find out then.”

Luke sighs, a big heavy sigh like he’s never been more inconvenienced than to have this knowledge hung in front of him like a taunt. Since he was never actually very good at swaying anyone, he stays quiet at Ashton’s request but he keeps the pout on his face.

It feels like a whole lifetime later that they arrive at the beach and Ashton parks while Luke cranes his neck looking for any clues as to where the wedding is, whose it is and what the big secret is. Seeing nothing, even though it’s probably just beyond the big tree, deflates his spirits and he glowers at Ashton as he cuts the car off, ending the infinite loop of Bruno Mars.

“You said I’d find out when I got here,” Luke complains. “I can’t see anything.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll tell you here just in case you want to run off,” Ashton says, turning towards him.

The mention that he might want to run off makes Luke’s heart beat a little faster but he nods. He’s been waiting for half an hour for this.

“So you mentioned you wanted to get married but, you know, it’s illegal in Australia and you can’t travel far enough to go to a place where you _can_ get married,” Ashton explains. “And I remembered reading all these things on the internet of people going online and becoming ordained ministers and then marrying their friends.”

Luke just stares at him and he doesn’t think this can be real.

“And I did that,” Ashton smiles, pulling a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket and showing Luke a little certificate. “Calum got Michael in on it and they went out and bought some rings a few days ago and now we’re here. And you’re getting married.”

“Ashton, holy shit,” Luke says. “You’re the best friend I could’ve ever asked for.”

Ashton beams. “I know, you don’t need to remind me. Just a heads up, even though you probably guessed it, the wedding isn’t legal and it’s mostly just ceremonial so, yeah.”

Luke nods. “I know but even that is good enough. Thank you so much.”

They both get out of the car and Luke, as their feet touch sand instead of asphalt, looks over at Ashton. “I’m not prepared, I don’t have any vows or anything.”

“Make them up as you go, that’s my plan.”

They smile at each other and Ashton squeezes his shoulder as they walk along the beach, towards the tree. Michael and Calum are both there in the shade of the tree, both dressed in suits and his knees go weak but maybe that’s just the heat and maybe it’s just that this is the boy he’s marrying.

“Dearly beloved,” Ashton starts in this big deep voice.

“Pretty sure that’s funerals, mate,” Calum says. “And give them a second, it’s their wedding day.”

Luke goes over to Michael and really, this isn’t how he imagined his wedding day would go at all but for the past while he’s been under the impression he’d never get a wedding day. Michael takes his hand and squeezes them gently.

“Hey,” he whispers, looking a little breathless.

Luke needs a piss, suddenly, but he reminds himself it’s all nerves and this isn’t even a real wedding. “Hi,” he smiles.

“You want to do this?”

Luke nods and squeezes his hands again. “Of course.”

Michael starts leaning over to kiss him but Calum interrupts with a stern throat-clearing.

“I know I said you two could have a moment, but that’s too much of a moment,” he scolds, smiling all through it.

Ashton clears his throat again and they arrange themselves sort of like an actual wedding would. “Dearly beloved,” he says. “I don’t know what I’m doing and I’m going to make it up as I go along because I’ve never actually been to a wedding and this is going off what I’ve seen in movies and on TV so bear with me.”

“Again, love, ‘dearly beloved’ is for funerals,” Calum mumbles.

“We’re gathered here today to join Luke Hemmings and Michael Clifford in holy matrimony. I understand that there are supposed to be Bible readings here somewhere but I don’t have one handy so we’re going straight to talking about how much Luke and Michael love each other. It’s enough to give me cavities sometimes. Put the two of them in a room full of kids and watch them get a sugar high.

“The day I met Luke, in Children’s Hospital waiting room, my plan was to get to know him since he was really cute and my apparent reaction to terror is flirting. He got a text while we were sitting there and from the look on his face, I knew that it was someone he just loved. After that, I was a little wary to find out they’d broken up and I was cautious that Michael was going to be a dick to Luke through his treatment and stuff, which was the last thing that Luke needed. But he wasn’t and it was probably the best thing I’d seen in a while.”

“Why are you talking about us in third person?” Michael chuckles. “We’re right here. Also, on with it.”

Ashton chuckles quietly. “Anyway, as requested by one of our grooms, we’ll move on. Luke, Michael, there’s nothing I’m more honoured to do than officiate your wedding. Onto the vows.”

Luke beams and squeezes Michael’s hands to get a pulse back. He gives him a pointed look to go first and Michael shakes his head and they go back and forth for a moment.

“I’ve had time to prepare, I don’t want to feel bad,” Michael says. “Best for last, right?” He winks.

Luke rolls his eyes. “I’ve had no time to prepare, this isn’t fair,” he murmurs. “But fine, I’ll do it.”

Michael beams like there’s nowhere he’d rather be and it makes Luke a little more comfortable.

“When I first met you, I genuinely thought that we’d be friends for about two weeks and then we’d drift apart. After about a year, I thought we’d just start hating each other at some point but I fell in love with you. When my parents said we were moving, I threw a fit and they promised I’d make new friends and I met you and I fell in love with you and I was so damn lucky,” Luke says quietly. “My parents looked at a house across town and they almost put me in a different school but I moved in across the street from you and we went to the same school and now we’re here.”

Michael squeezes his hands again, smiling.

“I’m so lucky to get to marry you,” Luke says, biting at his tongue. “And I’ll do my best to not die on you but at this rate, I feel like I could live another ten years with no problem.”

His face crumples a little because they both know that isn’t happening but maybe for right now they can pretend.

“God, way to steal my thunder, asshole,” Michael teases, working hard to keep the tears at bay. He takes a deep breath to compose himself.

“Babe, don’t cry,” Luke chuckles, even though the smallest thing could make him cry right now.

Michael takes another breath and smiles, giving his hands another squeeze. “You’ve stuck with me through a few questionable hair colours and I’ve stuck with you when you were sick. That’s the sign of a great relationship – because some of those colours really didn’t look good on me.”

“Oh shut up, you’re gorgeous. But I like your blue hair best.”

He smiles widely. “And every time you’ve been sick I’ve always considered switching my major and going into health sciences so maybe I can join the crew of people who have come up with all the medicines that have kept you going until now because I just want to help you. I always want to make you feel better and take away your pain. You’re my favourite and Calum can attest that I’m not a big people person and the day we met, I was pretty upset that my mum just invited you guys over without even _consulting_ me on my opinions. I didn’t need more friends because I had Calum but it turns out that I did.”

Luke blinks rapidly and he’s trying his hardest to not cry.

“I’d do anything for you, Luke, and you’ve made me a better person. I’m really glad you moved across the street and went to my school.”

Luke squeezes his hands tight and Michael smiles, taking another breath.

“Well, okay, after that brief, teary interlude,” Ashton says, wiping at his eyes. “Fuck, did no one think to bring tissue? Anyway, uh, the rings, Cal.”

Calum steps forward, handing Ashton a tissue while he passes the rings to Luke and Michael.

“You guys are supposed to say something about the rings that’s all old English and weird, I think, but let’s skip over that part because I don’t remember it. Give each other the rings,” Ashton says, tucking the tissue into his pants.

With fingers that begin to tremble the moment Michael’s hand lets go, Luke slides the silver wedding band onto Michael’s finger above the engagement ring and Michael repeats the process with Luke. It’s cool and it feels a little unnatural on his finger but it’ll become a part of him easily and quickly.

“Oh shit, right, the ‘I do’ part,” Ashton stumbles. “Uh, Michael, do you take Luke to be your husband?”

Michael smiles and nods. “I do.”

“And Luke, do you take Michael to be your husband?”

“I do,” Luke murmurs.

“Then, by the power I printed off the internet, I declare you husband and husband. You may kiss the respective husband.”

Michael tugs Luke closer and kisses him gently, sealing the deal.

They take photos after that, all four of them getting a group of tourists to take photos of them. Luke has never felt better, more elated and full of energy than he does today with the ocean behind them and the boy he loves by his side.

They drive home, unable to keep their fingers from entwining on the console between them and the smiles off their faces. Luke’s immediate reaction when they get home is to go inside and get out of his suit and for a minute, he thinks Michael is crossing the street to go to his house for the same reason but he joins him at the front door and kisses him.

“You look so good,” Michael murmurs.

It’s been forever since they’ve had sex except for a few intermittent handjobs given by Luke but he feels so good today, like he isn’t sick at all. “Mum won’t be home for like, an hour and a half,” he mumbles, still trying to kiss him.

“What are you implying?” Michael teases, pulling away to look at him and he has this big grin on his face.

Luke shrugs, opening the door and tugging him in before any of their neighbours see. “That we consummate our marriage,” he whispers.

Michael smiles and, trying still to kiss, they stumble back in the direction of Luke’s room. Carefully and slowly, which Luke realizes is to prevent him feeling dizzy and unwell, they undress without regard for hangers and let the pieces of their suits fall to the floor in heaps. Luke feels a twinge of reflexive fear about all the scars on his chest and in his arms and opens his mouth to apologize for them, even though he knows he doesn’t have to and he’s worn the scars and his skinniness with pride around Michael. As he weighs whether or not to apologize for the way his body looks and decides that he should, just in case, Michael attaches his lips to his neck and digs his teeth in gently and Luke’s brain goes fuzzy.

Michael’s lips create suction around that part of his neck and Luke lets out a low whine, his head lolling to the side to enjoy it when he remembers he’s got a bruise on his knee from when he bumped it against the counter three weeks ago.

“Careful,” he mumbles. “I’m going to have that for weeks.”

Michael chuckles. “Sorry,” he whispers.

Luke shrugs and manoeuvers them towards the bed, pushing Michael down gently and following him down. It feels a little foreign, like the first time Luke rode a bike after breaking his arm, but he’s sure it’ll go easily once they get down to it.

“How do you want to do this?” Michael asks as Luke kisses at his chest and holds onto his chubby hips. “Do you feel well enough to fuck me?”

“Think I’d lose my energy too fast,” Luke admits, taking his nipple in between his teeth to hear Michael whine. “You wanna ride me?”

“Just want you,” Michael whispers, breathless as he runs his hands through Luke’s hair. “Riding sounds good, yeah.”

Luke rolls onto his back, pulling Michael on top of him and it’s momentarily hard to breathe until Michael starts supporting his own weight. Luke leans up and kisses him, his hands on his hips and the feeling between their skin electric and zinging nearly audibly as their lips move together and as Michael rolls his hips down. It’s been months – _months_ – since Luke has been touched and maybe just the thought of sex has gotten him hard or maybe it’s the fact that Michael is perfect at this. Luke’s hands drift down, his fingers dipping under Michael’s waistband to his arse, squeezing gently just to hear the noise that Michael makes in response.

“Love you,” Luke mumbles, trying to shove his boxers down.

“I love you more,” Michael says, sitting up so that he was straddling him. It isn’t conducive to getting his boxers down at all, since his thighs are spread and he would have to forcibly tear them and to Luke’s memory, these boxers are some of his nicer boxers. No superheroes, no holes or tears and no outlandish patterns.

Michael pulls his leg back so his knees are near Luke’s hip and he slides his boxers down while Luke grabs the lube and a condom while there’s a pause and he isn’t missing a moment to touch Michael. It feels a little strange, being naked and hard with Michael on top of him again and with sticky lube on his fingers. It's been a long time since he’s been in a position like this and it’s weird but it’s starting to feel familiar again.

Luke slides a finger into Michael with minimal fumbling (he can’t quite see what he’s doing) and he squeezes his hip as Michael falters a little and moans. He’s tight and Luke doesn’t want to admit that this might take a little bit longer than he expected.

“Did you do this to yourself?” Luke asks, unable to get the image of Michael fingering himself in the shower, on nights when Luke wasn’t there, until he came.

Michael whines as Luke pushes his finger deeper and starts pumping it.

“When you got lonely?” Luke continues. “When I couldn’t do this to you?”

“Yeah,” Michael breathes. He’s relaxing, slowly. “Always thought about you.”

Luke pushes a second finger in, harder now that he’s thinking about Michael back in their flat or in his shower at home, all wrecked and mumbling Luke’s name as he pushed his fingers into himself. He forces the thoughts out of his mind to avoid coming before he’s even been touched and focuses on the feelings, the tightness around his fingers and the sounds that Michael is making because of him.

Michael’s hands grasp at him, at his shoulders, with his head pressed into his chest and his teeth and lips ghosting over his skin every now and then with the noises, the little whines and whimpers. Luke does his best, even though he can’t remember if Michael hates being teased or loves it and he tries it just to see how it goes. He slows the rhythm of his fingers so they’re almost still and Michael groans, digging his short nails into Luke’s chest.

“You okay?” Luke teases, sliding in a third finger but keeping them going so slowly that any of their movement is negligible.

“Go faster, please,” Michael breathes, kissing at Luke’s jaw like kissing him will convince him.

Luke turns his head and captures Michael’s lips with his own while he pushes his fingers in deep and quick and the response he gets is almost overwhelming. Michael ruts down against Luke and kisses him, open-mouthed, while Michael groans.

“I’m so hard,” Luke mumbles, their mouths still open against each other.

“So let me ride you,” Michael says, chasing his lips to catch them in a messy kiss.

“You ready?”

Michael nods, sitting up away from the kiss as Luke pulls his fingers out. He has a few fumbles with the condom, mostly out of nerves that he’s about to fuck Michael and he deserves to be fucked well. He manages to get the condom on and Michael, obviously impatient, spreads the lube over his cock and it’s maybe the best feeling.

As Michael slides down onto his cock, Luke grips at his hips in an attempt to ground himself to something other than the way he feels like he’s going to come right now, two seconds into it. Michael notices and stays still, giving them both time to adjust, and Luke runs his hand down his thigh to try and memorize the way his body feels. This could very well be the last time; his health could take a sharp turn south before he has a chance to do this again. He pushes that thought away and focuses on here and now with Michael on top of him, biting his lip and keeping his eyes closed and brows knit together.

It’s slow and it isn’t graceful like it is in porn but they’re both mumbling each other’s names and swearing.

Michael collapses against his chest, panting and sweating. “This is hard work,” he mumbles. “But I’m close.”

“Think you can finish?” Luke asks, his hands still grasping at Michael’s ass.

He nods, kissing right over Luke’s heart before pushing himself back up and rolling his hips. Luke comes first, moaning as he came into the condom, and Michael follows shortly after, wrapping his hand around himself and giving one quick tug before streaking come over their chests with a moan.

The subsequent clean-up is quick and minimal since Luke’s energy is mostly sapped from such an exciting few hours and he knows he can just shower later. Michael curls up next to him, taking Luke’s left hand with his left hand, and the clink of their rings is a little unfamiliar but welcome.

“I love you,” Michael whispers, kissing him gently.

“I love you too,” Luke hums. “What’s the date today?”

“March twenty first, why?”

“The day we got married,” Luke grins.

Michael smiles and wraps his arms around him, the layer of sweat on their skin a little gross but it conducts the electricity between them. They fall asleep like that, bodies entwined under the blankets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	48. 900m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended listening for this chapter: "without you" from Rent

Things improve after that. Luke has more energy and he doesn’t dread going out as much as he used to and his days aren’t spent, for the most part, on the couch watching _Friends_ or some movie for the tenth time while he waits for someone to come home. His blood tests are coming back with regular results, proving that the chemo is keeping the leukemia at bay, and his doctors are starting to wonder if he’s an anomaly and could live for another six months. At the beginning, they didn’t specify and told him that he would be lucky if he made it to wintertime.

Things improve.

And then they don’t.

And reality comes crashing down around him.

Luke wakes up with a cough and he’s tired all day and as the week goes on, he gets worse. He develops a fever and his chest hurts and he loses his voice, which makes him absolutely miserable. His mum comes home from work and demands to take him to the hospital, or at least the doctor, and he agrees, simply because he has a fever and he can’t talk and Ben’s wedding is in a week.

His doctor runs some tests, orders an x-ray of his chest and suggests that Luke might have pneumonia, which is possibly the scariest thing he’s heard since he was told he recurred and he wasn’t going to get better. It’s probably the worst possible news to happen right before his brother’s wedding and it makes him worry while he gets the x-ray and they’re waiting for the results, his mum holding onto his hand. Her youngest son is dying, Luke reminds himself, and it makes him worry that he’s not gonna make it to his birthday.

Luke has known he’s dying since December, at a more rapid rate than everyone else and at a rate that will likely be finished with him before he gets to experience another Christmas. He’s known for nearly five months but he’s been doing his best to ignore it and not think about it because it’s probably the worst thing he’s ever been faced with. His parents convinced him to regularly see the hospital therapist every time he went in for a checkup and it’s helped, since she was trained to talk about fears and do her best to ease them, especially with people facing their own mortality. It’s been getting easier to swallow the news but this is shaking him up again and he kind of wants to track down the therapist while he’s waiting for the results, because she’s a lot like Andrew, his favourite nurse, in that she knows how to brighten people’s days with little things that they’d mentioned weeks before.

She got into a small competition with him once over who could deliver the best soliloquy after a week, because he had confessed that he couldn’t think of anything to do that he could think about without exhausting him, and though she stuttered a word and lost to his (truly masterful, if he says so himself) rendition of _Braveheart’s_ freedom speech, the thought of her practicing the _Independence Day_ monologue for him makes him smile a bit in memory.

His mum squeezes his hand, and he’s back with grim faces and his fear. “You sure you’ll be okay for Ben’s wedding?”

Luke nods, looking over at her since his voice is pathetic and talking usually makes him cough and it hurts to breathe.

“Why don’t you talk to him when we get home?”

Not wanting to argue, Luke nods again and shuts his eyes. He probably will, just because Ben is home and his mum will probably send him up to talk to Luke.

He really doesn’t want to miss the wedding because it might be the only opportunity he has to attend one of his brother’s weddings and he had a night planned with Michael as well. They booked a room in a hotel a block away from where the reception was being held and they were both looking forward to it since it meant they could have a space to themselves and that Michael could have a few drinks without worrying about drink driving. He wanted that night with Michael, even though he would probably be too sick for sex; it might still be nice to have privacy.

His doctor comes back with a diagnosis of viral pneumonia and she suggests some over the counter cough syrups and that he gets lots of rest and stay hydrated. His mum asks about how he’ll be for the wedding and his doctor advises that he not dance too much or overexert himself and use his own discretion: if he doesn’t feel well enough to do something, he shouldn’t do it. His doctor speaks to him alone and they discuss options, as well as they can with Luke coughing nearly every sentence and rasping his way through most of his words. She mentions that it can be hard for his immune system to combat the illness when he’s taking chemo and she suggests that he stop taking it.

She says, in all hopefulness, he’ll recover from the pneumonia before the leukemia can take hold and maybe he’ll be able to start chemo again and rebound. She says it’s all very hypothetical and it would be the case in a perfect world but she says it would be better for the pneumonia if he stopped chemo. It’s basically a choice to pick his poison, whether he would like to die from leukemia or pneumonia or maybe a mixture of both if it gets to that point.

Luke doesn’t believe in bad wedding omens but a diagnosis of pneumonia and his estimated lifespan shortening by a few months is probably not the best.

He gets home and he gets a chance for a nap before his mum sends Ben in to talk to him about the wedding. He revels in his few minutes alone after waking up, even though he feels awful and he just wants to sleep more so he doesn’t have to feel a thing, when there’s a knock on his door.

“Hey,” Ben says quietly when he walks in. “How are you feeling?”

“Hm,” Luke breathes. “Okay, I guess.”

“You sound like shit.” He grabs Luke’s desk chair and pulls it a little closer, sitting down.

“Yeah. Pneumonia. It bites.”

“Yeah, mum told me. You don’t have to come to the wedding, you know.”

“Ben,” Luke sighs.

“I’m serious, Luke,” Ben says, pausing while Luke coughs. “You sound like shit and I don’t want to kill you with my wedding. Please, consider it.”

Luke sits up, which is a bad idea because his head spins and his chest feels tight. “I want to go,” he says softly. “It’ll be my last chance to see one of my brothers get married and I want to be there.”

Ben recoils, less than their mum does whenever he pulls that card but still noticeable, and sighs.

“I’ll be fine for the wedding,” Luke goes on. “I won’t do anything that’ll kill me, I’ll sit down a lot and rest and drink loads of water.”

“Okay,” Ben says softly. “I’m just worried about you.”

Luke nods. “I’ll be fine. I’ll get better,” he says, lying through his teeth.

Ben nods and leans over, kissing his head quickly. Luke was always kind of his loser younger brother but he’s realized that Ben adores him just as much as Jack.

The fact that he never got to figure it out organically fucking sucks, though.

Michael comes home from work and receives the news about Luke having pneumonia and he nearly cries, though a long cuddle helps and Luke doesn’t divulge that he didn’t take his chemo tonight and he won’t be taking it again until he recovers from the pneumonia, if he ever does. He doesn’t want to worry anyone by admitting it, even though Michael would probably take his worries and calm them in the way he always does, like he’s trying to convince himself as well. Luke knows that this will kill him and it would be more humane to tell everyone else but that would just make it real and he doesn’t want to face it so soon and so head-on.

Luke asks Michael to read him to sleep and hands him _Pale Fire_ , listening to the rhythm of his face over the words of the poem. He falls asleep before the end of the second canto, before he has to hear the words of a broken parent mourning their child.

 

_500m_

Luke wakes up early with his family, despite having had a terrible coughing fit the night before and having been unable to fall asleep because he was so worried about waking up his family and being banned from coming to the wedding. He gets up, he bathes since showers are too much effort and he fixes up his hair arguably the best he’s ever done before he puts on his best suit, the one he’d asked shyly to wear for his funeral. It fit him better than the one he wore to his mock-wedding.

The photographer gets candid shots of them all getting ready, even though most of them are at least partially posed and the morning is all hectic. Luke is forced to stay out of it and stay on the couch with Pancake, though it just transfers her fur onto his suit and then Jack nearly tears the house apart looking for the lint-roller as Luke thinks about how he’s glad he never saw the end of his cat.

They find a lint roller, they drive to the church, which is a tiny little thing but he remembers the wedding isn’t all that big. He sits in the front pew with his family and Michael to his other side, who always looks amazing all cleaned up and with his hair done. They hold hands through the ceremony, which is gorgeous (Luke cries, because he deserves this, something big and fancy but he can live with what he got on the beach because that was amazing, too), and he thinks about the weight of his ring on his finger. Luke also manages to go the entire ceremony without having a hacking fit, which he was worried about. He’d fought to be here but the church was silent except for Ben, Christina and the minister and he would’ve had to step outside and miss the whole damn thing.

_400m_

He goes with Michael to the reception, leaving Michael to dawdle in the lobby while he takes photos with his family and Christina’s family, the union officially tied and they eventually pull Michael into the photos because his mum is saying he’s just as much a family member as Luke is at this point.

The food is wonderful and Luke doesn’t feel terrible, mostly just tired and his chest hurts so he loosens his tie and undoes the top button of his shirt the minute all the really fancy photographs are finished. He only takes a few trips to the bathroom to nearly die coughing, he swears, but he’s fine and returns to the reception minutes later with a big smile to confirm that he’s okay. He doesn’t dance, since he promised his doctors, but he does sort of dance with Michael, just a little bit. It doesn’t hurt and he goes right back to sitting once he’s done, just watching everyone else dance.

Watching everyone reminds Luke how things will go on after he dies. People will fall in love (even Michael, which makes him falter to a stop) and seasons will change. It’ll stop being winter, it’ll get hot and Christmas and New Year’s will happen without him. Flowers will grow, grass will grow and someone will whine about having to haul the mower around but it won’t be him. People he’s never met won’t notice his absence – all the people in his classes got used to him not being there last November. He’ll be gone but the world will continue moving.

The thought reminds him how devastatingly tired he is.

_300m_

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Luke says over the music to Michael, kissing his cheek.

“You okay?” Michael asks, a worried frown on his face.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he reassures, standing. He goes to the bathroom and splashes his face with cold water to try to wake himself up.

On his way back, in the lobby, he decides to take a quick stop on one of the couches, just to rest, he promises himself. The moment he sits, the fatigue hits him even worse and he’s pretty sure he falls asleep there in the lobby with some upbeat song playing loudly in the room right next to him while everyone dances. When he wakes up, it’s his mum, wearing a face of concern and she helps him sit up and brushes his hair back into place with her fingers.

_200m_

“Are you feeling okay?” She asks.

Luke nods, rubbing at his eyes. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “Just tired.”

“You should go, I’ll get Michael and you can say bye to everyone.”

He nods and she helps him up, carefully, and the dizziness crashes over him worse than it ever used to and he kind of misses the way that the chemo drugs would reduce his symptoms. He can’t remember ever being this dizzy and he thinks that it’s probably because of how far the illness has progressed since he’s stopped taking the chemo.

His mum helps him back into the reception room where he puts on a bright, cheery smile and apologizes for taking so long to Michael. He hugs everyone goodbye, congratulates Ben on the wedding and tells everyone he loves them before Michael leads him to the elevator and down to their car. It was Michael’s plan to bring it and he hadn’t drunk at all tonight because Luke was sicker and he didn’t want the walk to their hotel to kill him.

On the way to their hotel room, Luke texts his mum goodnight and reminds her to tell everyone that he loves them.

 

_100m_

Michael loves the wedding but it’s tinged with an air of anxiety around Luke. He has this big smile on his face all night and he seems well and happy but Michael worries because he knows when Luke is faking a smile and he knows that this one reaches his eyes in the way that Luke’s smiles only do if he’s concentrating on it.

It’s an expression that an older woman taught to Luke after her teenaged kids and niblings had left the ward, a few weeks back. She had said something about wanting their memories of her to be of her smiling and happy, even through cancer, though it took an obvious toll as soon as they left the room, nurses converging with IV bags full of painkillers and fluid.

He’s become intimately familiar with that face since their pseudo-wedding.

He does his best to ignore it, though, and take his words at face value and believe him that he’s doing okay but after his fourth escape to the bathroom to cough and Liz finding him on the couch asleep, Michael can’t help but worry. He takes him back to the hotel, which is lovely and their room is only a short elevator ride away from the lobby itself and it isn’t far from the elevator itself, which is nice since Luke is probably falling asleep again.

Michael helps him undress and helps him into bed, he holds onto him, singing to him without a request just so he falls asleep better. He falls asleep not long after, remembering to turn out the bedside lamp before he tumbles into bed with Luke’s head against his chest and an inkling of hope in his chest that things will get better again, just as they did after Luke and Michael’s wedding.

_50m_

He’s woken a few hours later, suddenly and with a bit of a jump, when Luke next to him is sitting up and coughing so much he’s gagging. A glance at the alarm clock tells him that it’s just past two and Michael doesn’t know what to do because it sounds like Luke can’t breathe.

He flicks on the lamp because the light has always meant safety, and Luke’s cough falters to a quick silence as he tries to get a breath.

“Please,” Luke chokes out, grabbing at his chest.

_25m_

Michael still doesn’t know what to do as Luke coughs again and retches from it. “Fuck – uh – I’ll take you to the hospital,” he decides quickly, standing up and pulling on the two nearest articles of clothing, a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants and he grabs his phone and Luke’s, stuffing them both into the pouch of the hoodie. He grabs a shirt for Luke and helps him put it on before shoving his feet into the slippers he brought for the morning and his own feet into a pair of thongs.

The elevator doesn’t come fast enough and Michael knows Luke can’t do stairs with the way he’s breathing now so he picks him up and carries him haphazardly down the two flights, stumbling over the last step when he expected a stair that wasn’t there, and it’s a fucking wonder that he doesn’t trip and kill the both of them.

He lets Luke down when he slaps at his chest a few times and Luke, in his ragged old shirt and his boxers and slippers, stumbles over near the garbage cans. He coughs, wet and deep with phlegm coming up and gags a few more times and Michael is shaking. He didn’t park far away, he knows, and he grabs his keys to unlock the car.

_20m_

After Luke has spent a few minutes retching by the garbage cans, Michael carries him, fuelled by adrenaline and with the added bonus that Luke is thin and worn down from illness. He sets him up in the backseat with a shopping bag in case he gets sick and gets in the front. The radio is playing an old Aerosmith song, which sort of covers the terrifyingly pathetic noises that Luke is making.

_15m_

Michael barely knows his way to the hospital from this hotel and he swears, hitting the steering wheel as Luke’s cough worsens and he can hardly manage to inhale. He speeds and maybe he runs a red light but it’s close to three in the morning and there’s barely anyone else on the roads. He finds his way to the hospital and he notices that Luke is quiet, which he doesn’t know is a good thing or a bad thing, but he finds a parking spot and stumbles out of the car.

He flings the door of the shitty, old car open and Luke is asleep, passed out, something, and Michael doesn’t bother closing the doors of the car.

He scoops Luke into his arms, limp and a little harder to carry. He’s too scared to check for his breath or a pulse so he just runs inside to the lobby.

_10m_

A nurse in pink scrubs looks up at him. “How can I help you?” She asks, too friendly. Doesn’t she know that the love of Michael’s life could be dead?

“He’s been coughing a lot,” Michael says, a little louder than he meant to be. “He needs help, now.”

The nurse in pink gives another nurse in blue a look and the one in blue rushes to get the stretcher. “Does he have any conditions?”

_9m_

“Leukemia and pneumonia,” Michael stammers, too anxious to cry as they help him put Luke down.

_8m_

His hair is deflated and a little messed up from sleep and the spot around his mouth is shiny with phlegm from coughing and he’s pale, he’s too fucking pale.

_7m_

“Has he taken anything?” The nurse asks.

_6m_

Michael shakes his head as the nurse calls for a doctor and tells Michael to take a seat and they’ll get back to him soon.

_5m_

They roll Luke away and Michael sits down in the nearly empty waiting room, shaking from his head down to his toes.

_4m_

His mind wanders back to the car in the parking lot, the doors open and the keys left in the ignition. If it gets stolen, it isn’t as bad as his boy’s life being taken from him too early. He isn’t even twenty yet and all his doctors promised that he’d live to see his twentieth birthday.

_3m_

Michael forces himself to count down from one hundred and take deep breaths and he clutches his hands together in an effort to stop shaking.

_2m_

It feels like an hour, it feels like a millennia, until a doctor comes out and heads for Michael and, he’s shaking even worse now that he’s on the edge of hearing the news, that Luke is okay and he’ll just have to be here for a while and that’ll be okay, Michael thinks.

_1m_

He tries to quell the shaking as the doctor approaches and stops in front of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com) also, if you want to contact me with questions about the fic, feel free to do that as well!


	49. detonation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for coming this far. i suppose it's time i explained the title? the length is from a standard safety fuse which burns at about 1cm per second. it began burning the very first time luke and michael's eyes met and, well, detonated the exact second luke passed away. the numbers got a bit jumbled in the math and i rounded up but yeah, many thanks to tiana, my beta, for the title and the idea for chapter titles. and thank you all for being so patient and loving with this fic thank you so much

“I’m sorry,” she says softly.

It doesn’t click. “Is he okay?” Michael blurts.

She runs her tongue over her lips. “He died.”

It just can’t be happening. Out of all the possible outcomes, Luke dying is the least possible. “What?” Michael asks.

“He’s gone,” she says softly. “I’m very sorry for your loss but he had a DNR and we have to respect his wishes.”

Michael shakes his head quickly, trying to feel the space in his heart, the biggest chunk of it, reserved for Luke, but it’s empty and he falters. “His brother -” he stumbles, falling short.

His thoughts are coming in chunks and bursts. Ben’s wedding. Liz and Andy. Luke can’t be dead. Luke can’t be gone.

“His family is being notified,” the doctor says quietly. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Michael sits down hard, feeling both phones in the pouch of his hoodie, which he isn’t even sure is his or if it’s Luke’s. Their scents have merged since they moved in together but he thinks he can sort of smell Luke’s deodorant past the shock.

“Is there anyone I can call for you?” She asks.

“No,” Michael blurts before he has a chance to take her up on her offer. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

She nods, wishes him well again, and walks away.

He doesn’t know what to do.

He goes outside and he can hardly stand to look at their – originally Luke’s – car, just sitting there with the doors wide open and that was the last place that Luke was alive.

He grabs the keys out of the ignition and locks the car before he has a chance to get in and drive. He would probably crash his car into a ditch or something.

Michael sits on the curb and pulls out his phone. It’s just past half two in the morning and he doesn’t want to be here when Liz and Andy get here, even though he should. He dials his mum’s number, praying that she kept her phone on and by her bed.

“Hello?” She mumbles when she answers, obviously freshly awoken.

It’s good to hear his mum’s voice and his chest is tight. It occurs to him that he hasn’t cried yet. “Mum?” He whispers, his voice starting to shake. This all just feels like a bad dream and he wants to wake up in their hotel bed, Luke tucked into his side with his pneumonia finally starting to improve, and tell him about the dream he had, so Luke can swat at his shoulder and say something about how he’d never die that quietly, that he’d get some sort of grand speech in about love and the light at the end of the tunnel. Or maybe some awful pun or something, and then they’d laugh and everything would be okay, for a little while longer.

Just a little while longer.

“Michael,” she says. “Is everything okay?”

He swallows.

“Can you come pick me up?” He asks.

“Yeah, of course, where are you? Are you okay?”

“I’m at the hospital. I’m okay.”

They’d been running on “little whiles” for a long time.

He can hear the slight hitch in her breath. “Is Luke okay?” She asks carefully, the exhaustion gone out of her voice.

He doesn’t want to admit it because then it would be real and it would all be happening right now and he just wants to wake up in his hotel bed and have a chance to pull his boy a little closer. “No,” he finally mumbles, his voice too high and trembling.

“I’ll be there soon, all right? I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He supposes it was about time they ran out.

Michael hangs up first and pulls his knees to his chest. He should’ve called an ambulance. He should’ve taken less time getting dressed. He shouldn’t have let Luke pause for so long in the hotel parking lot.

It’s so quiet and all he can hear is himself crying. He wants to turn on music but everything on his phone is something he listened to with Luke at some point and it’ll just make him think of all those times when they were together listening to those songs. He opens the dialler on his phone, thinking that – _oh God_ – he has to tell Ashton and Calum about it. The thought makes him feel sick down to his stomach and his bones and he taps in the first number his thumb lands on. A number pops up for him to dial, a suggestion based on his recent calls, and he taps it and holds the phone to his ear.

“Michael? What time is it?” His dad asks.

Michael wasn’t expecting that. “Hi,” he says, sniffling. “It’s close to three in the morning.”

“Jesus,” he mumbles. “Do you need anything?”

He wipes at his eyes and he’s mildly surprised to find that they come back wet. “Luke… Luke’s gone, dad. He’s dead.”

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” he says. “Do you need anything? Do you need me to pick you up?”

“No, thanks,” Michael whispers, sniffling. “Mum’s on her way.”

His phone beeps with a text and he pulls the phone away for just a second to look at it. It’s his mum, telling him that she’s in a taxi because she doesn’t feel she should drive so tired.

“Michael? You still there?”

“Yeah, sorry,” he says. “That was mum, she’s in a taxi.”

“Do you want me to come and get you guys? I’m not far and you don’t want to be in a taxi after this.”

“It’s okay, you just woke up too.”

“I’ll come get you guys, all right?”

Michael has no choice but to accept the offer. “Okay… Thank you. I love you.”

“You too, kiddo,” he says before hanging up.

It dawns on him just after hanging up how his mum will react. They haven’t been in the same room as each other since the divorce, which he realizes was almost twelve years ago, and he immediately feels even more guilt.

Michael lays his head against his knees, which hurts his back and neck after a while from the awkward angle. It’s quiet until a car drives up and a pregnant lady and her husband pile out of the car, her hands on her stomach as he helps her to the front doors with a quick glance in his direction. He probably looks like a kid who was just treated for alcohol poisoning after a rowdy house party and he fucking wishes he was.

Another car pulls up after a while and Michael stands up when he recognizes it as Liz and Andy’s blue sedan. They park, since the lot isn’t really full, and rush out of the car, stopping short when they see Michael. They look harried, both of them in mismatched sweaters and Liz’s hair still curled and styled from the wedding, but flat.

He doesn’t have to say anything before Liz throws her arms around him and Michael always thought that bursting into tears was a hyperbole but for all uses of the word, he can only describe it as bursting into tears. Michael does because it feels so good to be hugged and Liz does because her son is gone.

“You did everything you could,” Liz whispers into Michael’s shoulder.

He sobs. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

It isn’t true, he could’ve done more for Luke. He could’ve stopped by the front desk, maybe they had something that would’ve kept Luke okay while they waited for an ambulance and he would’ve been okay and alive. Maybe if Michael hadn’t fucked up he would be sitting next to him in a hospital room instead of standing here, holding onto Liz and crying in a parking lot.

Liz finally pulls away after what feels like forever and she kisses Michael’s head, using her sleeves to wipe at her eyes. The tears smudged whatever makeup she’d missed earlier and spreads it on the cuffs. “I love you,” she says. “We’re going in to see his doctors.”

He nods and Andy pulls him into a quick hug, kissing the top of his head. “Thank you.”

They go inside the hospital, Andy wrapping an arm around Liz’s shoulders and he sits down again on the cold concrete.

It’s actually cold out and Michael wiggles his toes to restore feeling to them. He regrets calling his dad but in all fairness, he wouldn’t look forward to taking a cab home; his past experience has been chatty cabbies and he isn’t quite in the mood for his cab driver to be talking about his children or something.

Things have been better with his dad since he called. They’ve seen each other at increasingly regular intervals and Luke met him when they all had lunch together and they’ve grown closer since he called when he was fifteen – or was he sixteen? He’s met his dad’s wife, Lynn, a few times and he thinks she’s lovely but he’s hesitant to refer to her as his stepmom since he’s only met her a few times.

He looks up when a car pulls up and it’s his dad, though it takes him until he gets out of the car to realize that it’s him.

“Hey,” he says, going over to him and holding out a hand to help him up. “You look cold.”

“A bit,” Michael admits, letting him help him up.

“I’ve got some blankets in the car. Your hands are like ice.”

It isn’t that bad, Michael thinks, staring down at his hands as his dad wraps his arm around his shoulders and tugs him close.

“How are you doing?”

Michael shakes his head, leaning his head on his dad’s chest. He doesn’t know how he feels, just that he feels like this isn’t real and he wants so badly for it to not be real. He’s holding onto the hope that it’s a dream and if he falls asleep again, he’ll wake up in the hotel room next to Luke and they’ll be okay.

“Hey,” his dad whispers, squeezing his shoulders. “You’re going to be fine.”

“Please,” Michael chokes. He doesn’t want to think about it yet.

His mum’s taxi drives up and he opens his eyes, watching her get out quickly and slow as she goes over to them, leaving the cab driver waiting for them.

“Oh, Daryl,” she says quietly. “It’s nice to see you.”

It’s obvious she doesn’t mean it but Michael is too happy to see her to fixate on it. He lets go of his dad and rushes over to her, hugging her tight. There’s nothing better than to see his mum when he’s suffered something his brain isn’t letting him comprehend. She pulls him close and brushes at his hair.

“Do you want to go with him?” She asks softly.

“Do you think a cab is a good idea, Karen?” His dad asks, no biting tone in his voice. He takes a breath anyway. “He needs family. I’ll give him a ride back to your house.”

She hesitates but nods after a minute. “Okay. Turn the heat up for him, poor thing’s starting to shiver.”

“I’ve got blankets,” his dad says, going to his car to get them out of the boot.

His mum goes back to the cab to pay the driver and Michael climbs into the backseat of the warm car, his dad tucking one of the blankets around his shoulders like he would when he was little. It feels so goddamn good to be coddled.

His mum sits in the backseat with him and Michael hiccups, leaning against her as she wraps an arm around his shoulders. The radio is off and it’s entirely silent except for the rumble of the car as they start driving.

Michael leans into his mum, her arms wrapped around him like he’s still a little kid and not full grown. His mum brushes at his hair and sings him a lullaby to soothe him into this feeling that he’s walking the plane between lucidity and unconsciousness and he can remember singing it to Luke, which makes him cry, pathetically and weakly into her chest, all his strength gone. He thinks that this is the first time his parents have been in the same room together since the divorce was finalized. It would be a lot more momentous if Luke hadn’t died less than an hour before it happened.

They get home and Michael’s mum helps him into bed while he tries, weakly, to fight about going across the street because _that’s_ his bed, not this one. His mum distracts him by telling him he has to call Ashton and Calum and he deflates. He can’t do it.

He does, though. He calls Calum and he wakes up and steps into the hall and they talk for a few minutes, Calum promising that he’ll tell Ashton as he starts to cry and asks what happened. Michael recounts the story for the first time and it’s unbearable and his mum suggests that he end the phone call halfway through his story, when he’s crying so much that he can barely talk about what happened after he got Luke in the car. They cry together and it feels good, so much better than standing out on the hospital curb alone waiting for someone to show up so he wouldn’t be so damn alone anymore.

His mum stays with him, holding him the way she used to when he was a little kid and he’d had a nightmare. She sings him lullabies all night, probably sacrificing her own voice just to keep him soothed so that the pain isn’t drowning him.

Michael falls asleep sometime around dawn, cuddled into his blankets with his mum.

 

All the next day, Michael doesn’t know what to do with himself. He wakes up late into the morning, close to noon, and he still feels tired so he takes a shower and makes himself coffee. He consults his mum if it would be respectful or poorly-timed to visit the Hemmings and she says she isn’t sure of protocol following a death but he might want to stay home, just for today. She sits him down on the couch and makes him eat breakfast and she tries to take his mind off things by turning on some comedy movie. Neither of them laugh.

He checks Facebook on his phone to see a barrage of posts on his wall and messages in his inbox. They’re all saying the same thing: _I’m so sorry for your loss_. There are a few people a little more original, saying something that draws to mind the songs Michael tried to write when he was younger and he isn’t ready to respond to any of them. He posts a status, _thank you for your kindness_ , and that’s enough to deal with it.

He finishes the movie with his mum and scuttles back to his room after, while she starts dinner, and Michael opens his phone, unlocking it. He knows Luke’s password off by heart after catching him typing it in and then had to “steal” Luke’s phone to make a call or text. 0236. The battery is nearly dead and he plugs it in.

It feels a little like snooping when Michael opens his texts and glances through a few of them. There’s something from Jack, the timestamp says three in the morning last night and Michael opens it because he’s curious.

_fukc no luke you cant be ddead please_

_luke plseasee dont be dead_

_im nto a big bro ther any more_

The last one breaks his heart and he puts Luke’s phone down, wondering if he should take it back to Luke’s parents for some sort of grotesque souvenir of their son.

Michael cries, holding onto the pillow because he has nothing else to hold onto. He wants to hear a _tap tap_ on his window and look up to see Luke’s grinning face about how that was the _best_ joke he’s ever played because everyone fell for it so quickly and then he’d give Luke shit about it while holding him tighter than he ever had before.

When Luke was diagnosed at fifteen, Michael was faced with a premature prospect of a death happening to someone close to him instead of a great aunt he’d never met or someone on the news or one of those people in those depressing Facebook posts. From the time he was fifteen, he knew that Luke had an increased chance of dying over Michael or Calum but remission helped ease that knowledge and he fell into an easy sort of ignorance to a fact he’d felt so strongly when he was younger. He forgot about it.

Until it couldn’t be forgotten about anymore and that ignorance he’d fallen into was burst, but he kept wrapping the tatters of it around himself and calling it a blanket and saying that it was fine. It had to be. He didn’t – doesn’t – know how to live without Luke.

He has dinner with his mum and he doesn’t eat much, mostly just picking at the food on his plate but his mum doesn’t make him eat more. He helps her clean up, washing the sink and the counters after she finishes with the pots and pans, just so he doesn’t have to think about it.

There’s a buzz in his pocket as Michael is drying his hands and considering if he should make tea and curl up on the couch with his mum for the night. It isn’t a bad idea but his phone buzzes in his pocket and his mind drifts to it, pulling it out of his pocket to read it. It’s from Liz, one of the first coherent texts he’s received since Friday, asking him to come over for a few minutes.

Michael crosses the street and lets himself in because that’s what his text said to do, and he goes over to the couch where Liz is sitting with Andy. She pulls him into a hug when he sits down and he’s aware of Pancake inching over to investigate who’s joined them.

“Hi, love,” Liz says quietly.

“Hi,” he mumbles

“How are you doing?” Andy asks. Neither of them look like they’ve really slept.

“I’m okay,” he admits. “How are you guys?”

Liz takes a deep breath. “We’re coping.”

That’s the best anyone could currently be doing, Michael thinks as he nods, wondering why he was called here.

“We’ve started making funeral arrangements,” Liz says, her voice catching.

Andy puts his hand on her shoulder. “We know how much you meant to Luke,” he says. “And we’d like you to make a eulogy at his funeral.”

Michael nods. He’d been expecting that.

“Thank you,” Liz says quietly, her voice shaking.

Michael can hardly stand to look at either of them while they talk about when the funeral is and where it will be. They ask him to serve as a pallbearer as well, which he accepts as well even though the immediate thought of carrying Luke’s casket makes his stomach flop and his heart race. He leaves a few minutes later and spends most of the evening with his mum until he remembers his – Luke’s – car is still in a hospital parking lot and he should rescue it before someone steals it or he gets a fine for parking there for too long.

It’s dark out when Michael catches a bus down to the hospital just like he used to do when he was sixteen and going to visit Luke in Children’s hospital. He finds the car in the parking lot, right where he left it, and he thinks that maybe he should have let his mum drive him here. Maybe he should have gotten it towed or something.

Getting in is scary. It feels like he’s taking Luke to the hospital and it takes him a minute and a few long glances into the backseat to confirm that he’s okay, he’s just fine right here. Turning on the car causes the dashboard to light up and it shows the time. Luke hasn’t even been dead for twenty four hours.

His chest feels tight after a few minutes of driving and Michael doesn’t feel close to Luke at all here in the car where he was driving terrified with his boy to the hospital so he drives until he finds the same beach where he married Luke. He parks in the empty lot and goes over to the same tree where he waited for Luke to show up, in the shade with Calum and fretting about if his boy would ever show up.

Sand seeps into his shoes and he goes over to the water. He can remember coming here with Luke when they were seventeen and they celebrated their three year anniversary down at the beach and they drank wine and talked about things they were going to do. Luke didn’t know, he admitted, but he said maybe an English degree would be nice and Michael had even less of a clue. They were going to live together. They were going to go to school. And in those moments while it was raining and they were listening to Fall Out Boy and the waves, it felt like they would be together forever.

Michael is crying again and it isn’t the quiet, pathetic, weak crying he’s been doing lately. He’s angry that Luke was taken away the night after his brother’s wedding and he’s pissed off that he’s single for the first time in something like five years and he didn’t even get in a say in the matter. His first real breakup and it wasn’t even voluntary.

It’s just that none of this is fair. Luke had so much left to do, he was supposed to complete his English degree and he was supposed to have a chance to actually settle down with someone and have children and grow old before he died. He was at least supposed to get to his twentieth birthday.

Michael goes down to the water, full-on sobbing at this point and he stands where the water breaks over the sand. He played chicken with the ocean, him and Luke against the waves, and their shoes got wet and he was so happy. He doesn’t try to avoid the wave as it washes up against his shoes and soaks them through slowly. He shouldn’t be here without Luke because he used to hate the beach when he was younger because it always meant sunscreen and he always got it in his eyes and no matter what, he got sunburned somewhere on his body and he’d find sand everywhere. And now he’s here, alone and Luke is somewhere else, probably being embalmed and the thought makes him sick. Luke was the one who loved the water, not him, and he should be here right now.

“It isn’t fair!” He yells out at the ocean. It answers his weak voice with the perennially comforting roar of a new wave. “It isn’t fucking fair!”

His chest feels tight and he’s here fighting with the ocean. He remembers in his last year of high school English they were given a short story to read and “short” wasn’t quite how Michael would describe it since it took him a long time to read it. There was a spotlighted character who lead around this group of young boys and they made this big plan but something started to go wrong and the leader said “no, this isn’t fair”. His teacher explained that it was the one time that that character, who was written as mature and brave, showed childishness and weakness and how claiming that something wasn’t fair was the biggest show of immaturity and helplessness.

Michael turns around to go back to his car when he sees someone approaching with a flashlight. He blinks and rubs at his eyes, utterly confused about who he might know who would be down at the beach and coming towards him with a flashlight.

“Everything all right, sir?” The person asks, stopping a few feet away.

It’s a police officer and Michael wonders if he’s done anything illegal. In his reflection and hesitation, he gets the light shone into his face.

“Have you taken anything tonight, sir?” It’s a lady’s voice.

“No,” he says, squinting away from the bright light while still trying to remain assertive to prove he’s done nothing wrong.

“Was that you screaming?” She asks.

“Uh, yes?” He answers. If there was other screaming, he didn’t hear it.

“I could hear you a block away. Is everything okay? Was there someone else here?”

“No, just me,” Michael replies, sniffling.

“Why are you crying?”

“My fiancé died last night.”

The officer pauses. “I’m very sorry to hear that. Are you doing okay?”

He shrugs, which he immediately realizes is the wrong answer.

“What’s your name?” She asks.

“Michael,” he says.

“Is there someone I can call to pick you up, Michael?” She asks.

“I’m fine.”

She’s unconvinced, though. “It would be dangerous to let you drive as you are. Call someone to pick you up and I’ll wait with you for them.”

Michael doesn’t see a way to get out of it since he knows that he shouldn’t be driving like this with tears in his eyes and pain heavy enough in his chest to maybe make him do something really, really stupid. He pulls his phone out but it’s really bright when he opens his contacts and he doesn’t want to admit to his mum that he couldn’t even pick up his car without fucking up. He wants to call Calum but his screen is bright and he’s disoriented and shaking a little bit from being confronted by a police officer. He holds the phone to his ear as it rings.

“Michael?” Jack, not Calum, answers.

“Hi,” Michael says, trying not to sound like he called the wrong number. “Uh, can you come pick me up?”

“What happened, are you okay?”

“I’m okay, I’m fine. I’m at the beach and I can’t drive myself home.”

He can hear the hesitation and the slight sigh in his voice as Jack says, “I’ll be there in a few,” and hangs up.

He stands there waiting with the police officer for a while in awkward silence, neither of them even trying to make conversation while he waits for Jack to arrive. It’s tense when he climbs into Jack’s car and it’s quiet for the first part of the drive home.

“So what happened?” Jack asks, not glancing over at him.

Honestly, Michael’s always been a little scared of Luke’s family, especially his brothers who seemed like they were fiercely protective over him. “The last time he was alive was in that car,” Michael mumbles. “It was hard and I pulled over and got out and the cop found me and she refused to let me go until I called someone.”

“So you called me,” Jack says, a tone of venom in his voice.

“I meant to call Calum but I got you by accident. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” he mumbles.

Michael feels a sudden pang of anger. “I know you lost him but I did too,” he snaps. “I’m mourning too.”

Jack swerves to the side of the road, putting on his four-way lights. “Don’t even.”

(He knows he shouldn’t, that he should just sit back and fester in anger while Jack drives him home but this isn’t a fucking competition: Who Lost More? They both lost Luke but from different positions, brother and boyfriend.)

“Don’t even what?” Michael asks. “I get that you’re not a big brother anymore but I fucking lost him too and he was my fiancé.”

Jack is silent for the longest time, his jaw clenched. “You don’t even know what having a sibling is like.”

“That’s not the point!”

“You still don’t get it! You don’t understand what having a sibling is like and you don’t know how fucking hard this has been on me! _And_ Ben! His baby brother died the night after his wedding and it was _your_ fault!”

“How was it _my_ fault?!” Michael demands, even though he already knows and he’ll spend the rest of his life atoning for it.

“Because you were with him and you could’ve taken him to the front desk! You could have called an ambulance and you could’ve driven faster! If you hadn’t made such awful choices, maybe he would still be here right now.”

“So because it’s my fault I’m not allowed to mourn his death? I was with him for four and a half years!”

“It should have been you. You should’ve gotten sick in the first place and you should’ve been the one who died.”

His feet are blistered and his tears are falling with every bounce his step causes, but he manages to avoid any awkward conversation.

Michael has no retort or argument left in him after that comment and he wordlessly climbs out of the car and traces back their route, probably walking illegally at a few points. He finds the car at the beach, the police officer gone, and he gets in and drives home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	50. summer's lease hath all too short a date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "so long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, so long lives this, and this gives life to thee" sonnet XVIII, Shakespeare (title from the same sonnet) ((am i a shakespeare freak? yes))

Michael arrives to the visitation early. It’s really just Luke’s family and a few of the relatives who were here for the wedding who got to stay a while longer for a funeral. Michael is hesitant to approach because of the fight with Jack the other day but when his mum grabs his arm and leads him over to them he doesn’t fight her. They’re by the open casket and he didn’t really want to come to the visitation but he had to. He couldn’t just not come.

Liz hugs both of them and Andy offers the warmest smile one could offer on a day like today. As his mum starts to offer condolences and Michael considers slinking away to the casket, the lesser of two evils in comparison to staying here, Jack catches his eye and takes his shoulder, leading him a few feet away from where they are.

“I’m sorry about the other day,” Jack says softly, trying to maintain eye contact with him and failing. He doesn’t blame him; sometimes it’s easier to be angry. It can burn and burn until all that faces the world is sharp edges burning red hot, softness bent inwards to – to keep it safe, or whatever. “I wasn’t thinking and I said some really awful things to you.”

Michael can’t help but glance over at the casket. “Thank you,” he murmurs. “That means a lot.”

“I’m sorry you lost him, too.”

“Thanks. I’m sorry about what I said, too.”

Jack gives him a weak smile. “Thanks.” He stopped again, gave an even weaker attempt at a laugh, and gestured forwards before fading away into the crowd again. “Go say goodbye to him.”

It’s questionable whether or not Michael has ever been around a dead body before (and the question comes from whether Luke died in the car or in the hospital) but the thought of seeing Luke is making him a little nauseous.

Michael cautiously goes over to the casket and there’s Luke, in his best suit with his hair done the way he liked it and Michael is so glad. They’d talked about it and about how Luke just didn’t want to be buried with his hair done the same way his mum would do it when he was a little kid going to church on Christmas day.

It’s just so surreal because it looks like Luke is just asleep instead of dead and Michael wants to reach down and feel for his heartbeat on his neck, the same spot he used to kiss. His lip piercing is still in, a stark black against the pallor of his face and Michael can sort of tell that he’s wearing makeup but it covers the look of sickness and death. He thinks back to the last time he can remember Luke wearing makeup: the day of his first date with Olivia when they discovered he had a giant zit on his forehead and they snooped through Liz’s makeup to find something – anything – to cover it.

“They got your shade right,” Michael murmurs even though talking to dead bodies has always seemed like the stupidest practice. It’s comforting. “I love you. I wish I could’ve gotten you there faster. I’m sorry.”

“No one blames you,” Liz says quietly from beside him.

Michael didn’t see her there and he starts a little, looking over at her.

She offers a smile. “Really. It was going to happen eventually and we all knew that the pneumonia was the last straw.”

“Didn’t have to be then.”

She puts a hand on his back. “We all could’ve done more.”

Michael wipes at his eyes with his hand and nods.

“No matter what, I doubt he blames you at all. He loves you so much.”

He leans into her, wrapping an arm around her waist and nodding. “He loves you too.”

She kisses his cheek. “Go and sit down. Ashton and Calum should be here soon.”

Michael takes a seat and he watches everyone go up to the casket, well-wishing the family and saying goodbyes. His mum sits next to him and takes his hand.

Ashton and Calum arrive and Michael stands up to hug them, the three of them piling together into a hug; it feels weird and incomplete without Luke here, eight arms in a comforting tangle down to six that try to make up for the lack.

Ashton is the first to pull away. “I’m so, so sorry, Michael,” he says earnestly. It’s such a difference from how happy and bubbly he was at their mock wedding.

“Thank you,” Michael says.

Ashton goes over to the casket and Calum watches. “It doesn’t feel real,” he admits quietly. “The last time I saw him he was all sick and he looked like hell but he kept promising he’d be fine.”

“He didn’t want to worry us.”

Calum just nods. “You’re eulogizing him?”

“Yeah. Ashton is too, isn’t he?”

“Yeah. He had me read it over so I can fill in if he gets too upset.”

Michael nods. He should’ve had someone do that but he still isn’t convinced he’s going to read what he wrote down on the paper.

“I’m really sorry about this,” Calum says softly.

Michael nods again and leans against him. Calum feels so familiar, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and it feels nice, like back when they were kids and they would pose for photos that their parents insisted they’d love when they were older.

For the remainder of the visitation Michael is sort of an honorary family member. Most of the guests stop by Luke’s family and then come over to him to express condolence and regret. A few of Luke’s classmates from university come over to him, talking about how much they’d heard of Michael even though they’d never met him. Mrs. Barker from their old apartment complex shows up and she speaks briefly with him about how wonderful she’d thought they were despite Michael remembering how she would often come over to lecture them on safe practices as young men susceptible to the devil. Olivia is in attendance as well and Michael has a conversation with her, filling her in on the end of Luke’s life.

It’s so surreal that there are so many people in a church and yet it feels mostly empty and Michael feels so alone, even though he knows almost everyone here and he knows that his mum is right here and Calum and Ashton and Luke’s family are all here. Luke’s absence has never been more palpable.

After the minister speaks about Luke’s life and how he baptised Luke when he was a baby, he goes on to talk about his illness and how he fought hard but none of that fight was in vain and Michael does his best to not cry but he does a little bit. They pray and the entire church bows their heads. Michael has never been big on religion but he does and he tries to feel the same way everyone else does about this. He tries to like, feel Luke’s soul and pray for him to end up in heaven but the entire thing feels a little irrational.

Ashton is the first to speak, pulling out a few cue cards. “I, uh, I met Luke when I was sixteen,” he says, recovering quickly from the stutter. “We started treatment at the same time and we were kind of hospital buddies. To be honest, I kind of had a crush on him when we first met,” he chuckles quietly and the audience murmurs with quiet titters. “He had this aura, this feeling that he wanted you there with him even when he was sick.”

He takes a moment, takes a breath. “He was warm and welcoming and just an absolutely gorgeous person, inside and out. He loved the ocean, he loved the beach, and I took him down to the beach as a celebration of his sixteenth birthday. My seventeenth birthday coincided nicely and Luke bought us both a cake to eat and we did, disregarding slices or plates, we just stuck plastic forks into the cake and ate until we were sure we would be sick. It was July and it was freezing by the beach but it was probably the happiest I’d ever seen him at that point, having only known him for a few months while he was sick and in the hospital.

“A very wicked and horrible part of me wishes I’d never met Luke so that I wouldn’t be here now, delivering a eulogy in the event of his untimely death. But, as Haruki Murakami put, ‘people’s memories are the fuel they burn to stay alive’ and Luke’s memory will burn just as bright as his smile. Thank you.”

Michael is next and he goes up to the pulpit, organizing the piece of paper he wrote his eulogy on late last night after procrastinating it for too long. It probably isn’t the best thing he’s ever written but it’s something and it’s for Luke. “Luke’s favourite novel was _Pale Fire_. He read it nearly every day. There’s a quote from it I know he loved. ‘Death is the mandible, alive the song’.”

He goes on about resurrection, memory and he tells the story of Luke proposing in the hospital and how Luke is alive in the songs played at that concert, forever, because Michael will never be able to disconnect the two. He talks about how bravely Luke fought, about how he was valiant and he rarely complained and he always wanted to get better for his family and his loved ones.

Michael kind of zones out after that because his part is done, his words for Luke have resounded around the church and were met with sniffles. He tries not to listen to Ben and Jack eulogize their baby brother; they cry and Michael is still trying to hold them up as those big brothers he’s terrified of because that makes it normal. He’s done his part and he just wants to go home and find Luke on their bed with a big goofy grin.

He tunes back in for Andy’s eulogy.

“Luke was born on the sixteenth of July, 1996,” Andy begins. “Out of all the boys, he was the easiest to deal with when he was a baby and when he was a kid. Maybe watching his brothers get disciplined was enough to scare him. Liz always said that he was a master at losing things and he lost everything, at some point or another which always lead to chaos and an upturning of the whole house just to find his science textbook.”

There are a few chuckles from the audience. “Luke was fifteen when he was diagnosed and when he got sick I thought that it was mono or a bad flu but I never expected leukemia. The part that really struck me about it, before he was diagnosed, was how much he was complaining about it. Ben earned the title of whiniest brother and Luke was always quiet about things, even the time he got food poisoning so bad he couldn’t stand up for an entire night. But the diagnosis came that it was leukemia and it just – it didn’t feel real. Looking at Luke and thinking about it was impossible. Cancer, leukemia – they happen to _other_ families, not mine.

“It took until about that evening for the magnitude of the diagnosis to hit me. Eighty percent chance, is what they told us and you think _wow_ those are pretty good, eight out of ten people, but there’s still that two out of ten that got me worried sick. But Luke reached remission when he was seventeen and I remember turning to Liz and saying “thank God”. That part of our life was over.”

Andy breathes for a minute and wipes at his eyes. “Luke was ecstatic and his way of celebrating was by going to bed, getting a long sleep after a long and hard battle that he won when he was just a teenager. He was so brave to take everything on, school, a relationship and on top of that, cancer. He knew more about how to live life and treasure every day better than me, which isn’t something that sits so well. It’s natural for fathers to die before their sons but it’s plain awful and heartbreaking for sons to die before their fathers. No parent should have to bury their child, especially not their youngest.

“The night Luke came home with confirmation that he didn’t need to take the chemo meds anymore, Liz and I went into his room to check on him like he was a baby again. He was holding this bear Michael got him and I turned to Liz and I said, ‘I don’t know if I could handle him going before me’. I don’t know and I don’t know why God had to take my son from me after nineteen years of letting me, and all of us love him. But, as Ashton said, his memory will be the fuel that keeps us going and now that all I have of him is memory, I’ll treasure it as much as Luke treasured his life.”

 

Michael, as pallbearer with Luke’s brothers, dad, Calum and Ashton, is required to take Luke’s casket from the church to the hearse and from the hearse to the plot of land he’s been allotted to be laid to rest. Luke wasn’t very heavy when he died and they’re maybe carrying twenty-five pounds each. The steel handle is cold. Twenty-five pounds is heavy.

He shakes all the while through doing it, managing to grip onto the handle so tight that his hand quits shaking but the rest of him doesn’t. Here he is, his fiancé in a glorified box, about to be set six feet in the ground and have roses thrown on the polished wood before the minister blesses him and they get to refilling the gaping hole in the earth. It isn’t the easiest thing Michael has ever done.

It’s cold for May and Michael claims that he’s just cold in a hushed tone to his mum when she notes his shivering. She wraps an arm around him and it feels really nice that he’s got a tether while he listens to Luke be blessed one last time. Everyone throws a flower in once the casket is lowered and then it’s over, after too long of a morning and early afternoon. He hugs Liz and Andy, mumbles that he’s so sorry for their loss and they mumble it back. He’s hugged by Ben and Jack who are the closest he got to having brothers-in-law. He hugs Calum and Ashton and politely wishes everyone else who comes up to him well before he goes to the car with his mum and shuts the door, a barrier finally between him and the funeral.

It’s over. His boy is buried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	51. one step closer (to being two steps far from you)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title is from infinity by one direction, which, funnily enough is also the recommended listening for this chapter. also, quick soppy sidenote that i love all of you very much and i'm so glad that you've made this fic something so exciting and wonderful for me especially because i was so nervous to post it. thank you so much for reading

After the funeral, Michael curls up with his laptop in his bedroom with a rum and Coke since he’ll never be able to stomach rum on its own, he’s sure. He’s nicked the entire bottle and he snagged two Cokes from the fridge but he’s sure that at some point tonight the rum to Coke ratio will become so unbalanced that he’ll basically be drinking plain rum anyway, with just enough Coke to flavour it a bit.

His first drink is nice and the movie is a welcome distraction with all of the superhero shenanigans and all of the destruction being done to some city – New York? Chicago? Fictional New Cago? He didn’t catch that part.

The movie is over and Michael makes himself another drink right there on his bed with an old yearbook as a base for the rum, Coke and his tumbler to sit on. His bedside table is still over in Luke’s old room, since it was decided that Luke’s, with its rickety drawers that never slid in on the track, was the one they should put out on the driveway with a ‘FREE’ sign taped onto it. For a while he considered emptying his garbage just so he could flip it over and use the bottom as a makeshift side table.

Michael should get his stuff from Luke’s room. He really should, since there’s so much of it. The bulk of Michael’s clothes are in Luke’s bottom two shelves in his dresser, which was a debate that lasted for about an hour. Luke argued that Michael was shorter and it would be more logical for him to have the bottom two drawers while Luke, the taller one, took the top two. Michael argued they should alternate, Luke at the top and Michael in the second one but Luke’s argument of logic won over in the end. A lot of his old textbooks, schoolwork and things are still over there but Michael doesn’t know if he could step into that room without his lungs constricting to the point he can’t breathe. He’ll have to do it sometime, though; his mum wants him to go back to school for the next semester.

He isn’t over Luke and he doesn’t think he will be for a very long time, not if he knew Luke for nine years and dated him for four years. It will take a very long time for him to be okay again and he isn’t sure if he’s okay with that because he just wants to be over it and go back to who he was before Luke died, which he realizes is a person who’s very in love with Luke. If he wants to be who he was before he started dating Luke, he’d have to go back to when he was fourteen and if he wants to go back to who he was before Luke at all, he’d have to be ten years old again.

Michael opens Google as he pours himself another drink and he types in ‘how to get over someone’. The link is purple and Michael remembers vaguely being fourteen – or was it thirteen? – and Googling how to get over someone because Luke was with Olivia and he wasn’t bi and Michael had no hope in hell of ever being with him. He reads through the article again in case it offers any helpful hints.

“Distance yourself from them,” he reads off his laptop, snorting. “Yeah. It’s pretty fucking easy when they’re dead.”

It hurts again and he takes another long sip of his drink, the rum barely disguised underneath the soda. The ratio is probably three parts rum to one part Coke, if he’s honest, because he just needs something to dull the pain. It isn’t a cure, he knows, and if he makes it one then he’ll end up in weekly meetings for alcoholics or in some rehab place or on the streets. Luke wouldn’t be proud of him.

“This fucking sucks,” Michael mumbles, shutting his laptop and pushing it aside.

In all those romantic drama films, they get a chance for a big cheesy goodbye sequence. The dying one imparts their final wishes, tells the partner they’re leaving behind that they should be good and take care when they’re gone and they love them. Michael got coughs and mumbled pleads to drive faster and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Luke didn’t have a will, to the best of his knowledge unless it was buried somewhere in his room, and he has no direction. He should know how to be on his own, but he doesn’t.

Michael shoots back the last of his drink. Maybe it’ll keep him going. Maybe he’ll spiral down into some pathetic little mess. Maybe it’ll get better, as everyone seems to be promising him.

 

In all his not knowing what to do with himself, Michael dyes his hair blue again. He speaks to his work about it and they think it’s a great idea. He goes back to work, as well, which is hard and horrible and he doesn’t really want to but it’s something to do and it keeps him from spiraling, he’s pretty sure. He signs up for the early morning Wednesday shifts to read to little kids and it helps a lot; they’re positive and they make good conversation partners. They say they like his hair and they bring up random and frankly adorable topics.

Before Michael really knows it, it’s the weekend and he doesn’t have work for two days. It’s scary because work gets his mind off of things (except when the young girl came in and asked about a recommendation on _The Fault in Our Stars_ ). It’s also terrifying and a little hopeful that Michael has made it through an entire week without Luke.

It’s hard to sleep at night since he’s forgotten what it’s like to sleep alone. It’s hard to get ready because so often Luke and Michael would stuff themselves into their tiny bathroom to get ready at the same time (which led to a lot of handjobs in the shower) and he misses the way Luke’s hands would rest on his hip while he did his hair. It’s hard to look at his house and it’s hard to see his parents.

On Saturday, Michael resolves that he’ll go over to Luke’s, sit in their old room and maybe just find something he wants to keep or he’ll separate their things and take his home. He gets dressed, eats something and knocks on their door.

Liz answers the door and immediately pulls Michael into a big hug. She’s so much shorter than Luke was but her hugs feel sort of the same and he thinks that Luke always looked a lot like her.

“Hi, love,” she says, pulling away and giving him a smile. “How can I help you?”

“Just wanted to come and say hi,” he says softly.

“Would you like to come in? Have some tea?”

Michael nods. “Yeah, I’ll make it,” he says. He’s spent a good portion of his time around here, basically living here for a few months. He knows his way around their cupboards and their kettle.

Liz smiles, warm and affectionate, as they go to the kitchen. “You don’t have to,” she says.

He fills the kettle with water and sets it on, shrugging.

“Just like Luke,” she says, sighing. “Even when he was sick he’d insist on making tea for us or helping us in the kitchen.”

Michael knows exactly what she’s talking about but he doesn’t know how to respond. He just nods as he gets two mugs out of the cupboard.

“So why are you here?” She asks. It isn’t accusatory, but genuinely curious.

Michael shrugs as he grabs the teabags. “I want to see if I can get anything out of his room,” he says. “You know, a lot of my stuff is still there.”

She nods. “Are you ready for that?”

“I guess we’ll find out.”

He fixes their tea and they sit on the couch together, Pancake coming up on Michael’s lap and curling up against his thigh while he sipped tea with Liz. Luke’s graduation portraits are still on the mantle, what little hair he had back then barely visible from underneath the cap. He looks so happy and Michael is reminded of when they graduated and how healthy Luke was and how they had all these big plans.

A while after they’ve finished their tea and set the mugs on the coffee table at their feet, Michael ventures back into Luke’s bedroom.

He can remember coming in here so many times after school when Luke was sick, bringing him homework and checking up on him. He can remember Luke being asleep nine times out of ten, cuddled up with the bunny that Michael got him and the blankets on his bed.

He takes a deep breath and sits down on the bed, the same one from their flat and the same one that Michael spent so many evenings on. The All Time Low poster that Michael got him for his fifteenth birthday is still on the wall and Michael can remember Luke wearing the t-shirt he gave along with it being worn until Luke had trouble taking it off.

The room is a mess, honestly, from two teenage boys living in it and causing havoc by consistently missing their laundry basket and trash can. It’s the same it was the morning of the wedding when he woke up with Luke and got to nuzzle into his side and promise him that he would feel better soon. He got a smile in return, warm and affectionate with a big heap of love in his eyes and maybe that was Luke’s way of saying he didn’t think so.

Since they slept together, the bunny was tucked away somewhere. Instead of searching for his clothes and his books, he searches for the bunny and he finds it underneath the bed. He pulls it to his chest and inhales and it still smells like Luke and his deodorant and shampoo and a little bit like dust.

He lies down, pushing his face into Luke’s pillow to catch the scent of his shampoo and a little bit like his cologne as he holds the bunny to his chest. He misses Luke and he can remember coming home from work one day after having a terrible day, a customer screaming at him over lukewarm pasta and his class going terribly after someone mocked him for a perfectly valid question. He curled up in bed and Luke just fit his body to Michael’s and let him cry.

He just wants Luke to come in the door and do that again, just hold him until he stopped crying.

 

Michael doesn’t end up taking much of anything back home. He grabs the most obvious textbook and emerges from Luke’s room with the quiet admittance that he couldn’t do it just yet. Liz and Andy both give him a hug before he goes back over to his house and curls up on the couch with the TV playing some mid-afternoon show that’s just background noise. His mum is out to get groceries, which he was invited to but couldn’t imagine going with her.

He’s trying to motivate himself to get up and take a shower, just for something to do, when there’s a knock on his door. He doesn’t really want to tell the kid that lives down the street that he doesn’t want him to mow their lawn, but he opens the door anyway because he’s sad and he’s tired and he just kind of wants to sleep for a very long time.

It isn’t that kid from down the street wearing their snapback and calling him bro like he isn’t some white Australian kid but it’s Ashton, looking like he just got the energy to roll out of bed five minutes ago.

“Can I come in?” He asks.

Michael never really got to know Ashton very well, the potential for their friendship always an arms-reach away but neither of them had the energy to fill the gap while they worried about Luke. “Of course,” he says.

They sit down in the kitchen and Michael spends a solid minute considering whether or not to offer Ashton some booze. They’ve got coolers and wine and basically anything a blossoming alcoholic could want.

“How are you doing?” Michael asks while Ashton picks at a thread hanging off his sleeve cuff.

“It still doesn’t make sense to me, you know?” Ashton admits. “Like, how can he be _gone_?”

Michael nods.

Ashton rests his head in his hand. His kitchen and his house have always been small and it still feels empty with only two people in the kitchen. “It just really sucks.”

“It’s horrible,” Michael whispers, because those are the only words he really has right now. There just aren’t words for the giant feeling of emptiness in his heart and how many times he’s cried over Luke being gone, for good. It isn’t that he’s in the hospital and the amount of time they’ll see each other is lessened considerably, but he’s gone and he’s dead and the funeral happened. He’s been laid to rest. It’s over.

Ashton stands up and paces, limping just a little, before he sits back down. “Like, this just isn’t fair. I was sick too and it could have just as easily been me. It should have been me.”

“Ashton…” Michael says. He will force Ashton into a room with a suicide hotline if he talks like that.

“Why wasn’t it me?” Ashton mumbles. “He had – he had so much shit to do and I’m not even doing anything, I’m still just studying general arts because I don’t know what to fucking do but he _did_. He knew and he had absolutely everything to live for and it’s really fucking hard.”

“Ashton, take a breath, please. You’re scaring me.”

Ashton paws at his eyes and sighs. “I’m sorry. It’s just – it could have been me.”

“I know, but it isn’t. It was Luke.”

“I just feel so bad about it.”

“There’s nothing you could have done. Luke would want you to be well and in remission and everything. He’s gone and you’re still here.”

Ashton nods which feels like he’s trying to not admit that Michael is right. “It just feels so much like a nightmare, you know?” He mumbles. “It isn’t fair. He shouldn’t be gone.”

Michael shakes his head. “He shouldn’t.”

They sit there in silence. Once bonded over absent fathers, they’re brought closer again by a dead person between them.

 

Michael signs up for the next semester of university. He renews the insurance on the car so it’s in his name now even though driving in it still makes his chest tight. He decides to commute from home to school every day and he works something out with his work. He books an appointment to get his eyebrow pierced like he’s always wanted. He goes to the appointment.

He goes back to school and he studies and it gets his mind off of things, off of Luke and off of everything that he just wants to go away. It seems like he’s doing okay, he thinks, as the months slowly pass.

In the first week of July, he goes to a party and he kisses a boy who isn’t Luke while he’s drunk out of his mind and it feels good. He promises the boy he kisses that he’ll be back in two weeks to do this again after he tells him his name is Oliver.

Michael wakes up on the morning of the party he’s promised to go to with the immediate thought that tonight would be good and he would see Oliver again. He sits up and turns on his phone and his lock screen lights up, still a photo of him and Luke because he isn’t strong enough to change it yet, and looks at the date. July sixteenth.

 _Oh fuck_.

It’s Luke’s birthday. And Michael was planning on going to a party. He looks at his calendar and the date is circled from months ago when Michael got the calendar for Christmas. He never remembered to do anything about it when Luke died and he forgot until today, a day he got to sleep in and wake up with the knowledge that he was going to a party later and he might have sex. He _forgot_.

Michael rushes to get up, shower and eat something before he tells his mum he’ll be back, he’s just going out for a while. He goes down to Luke’s grave in time to see Luke’s family leaving and it’s hard to fit all the flowers into the little vase by the headstone.

_Luke Robert Hemmings. July 16 1996 – May 7 2016. Beloved son, brother and friend._

It’s such an inadequate summary of his life. Luke was more than a son, a brother and a friend. But it’s impossible to write about his entire life on such a tiny surface, Michael guesses as he sits cross-legged in front of the headstone. It’s cold and he doesn’t want to be outside but he wants to be here.

Luke would be twenty today. He would have been alive for two whole decades, fighting the odds of cancer and timelines he was given from his doctors.

Michael sits in front of the headstone, feeling like a bit of an idiot because he wants to talk to Luke but Luke is six feet under and he’s not there, even. Michael doesn’t particularly like religion which comes with an addition that he doesn’t believe in Heaven or Hell or whatever other afterlives there could be but he hopes that Luke is somewhere and that somewhere is a place where he’s happy and he isn’t sick anymore.

“Miss you,” Michael says softly. “I love you.”

There’s no answer, just the sounds of cars on the road and wind through trees. It’s cold.

“I got an eyebrow piercing,” he mumbles. “And I feel ridiculous because you can’t even hear me.”

There’s a gust of wind.

Michael shivers. “Happy birthday, love. I’m sorry I forgot and that I was going to go out and kiss another boy. I’m still yours. I’ll always be yours.”

The wind blows again, displacing his hair and Michael sighs, fixing it. “I love you. I’ll come back soon.”

 

Michael decides, against better judgement, that going down to the beach is a great idea once he’s left the cemetery. It’s empty and he just sits in the sand for a while and gives himself permission to feel sad for as long as he wants.

It’s been over two months and it still doesn’t feel real, except in the times it feels too real to bear, and Michael just kind of wants to be done with mourning so he can hold Luke’s memory with peace and ease and without wanting to cry or getting angry every time he thinks about it for too long. He feels bad for doing better, like it’s somehow an insult to Luke’s memory to start the healing process, even if healing is just not crying every time he focuses too hard on his phone background.

The lights on the water are dull. Michael starts walking through the streets, trying to find their old flat just to see the building again and maybe look to see if anyone else has moved into their flat. It’s cloudy and he’s reminded of the time he went down to the beach with Luke last year and they walked home and spoke of travelling and getting married. They decided Michael would take Luke’s name. It felt like eternity for those few moments in bed with him, giggling and smiling and kissing.

It isn’t fair that Luke doesn’t get to fulfill any of those wishes he made that night and it isn’t fair that Michael hasn’t seen a non-pixelated version of Luke’s eye colour in over two months. And it isn’t fair that Michael is left here, walking down the streets of Sydney, alone and without his boy at his side, passing all these people who don’t feel like they were here a year ago and who are all strangers. He’s on his own, now. He’s single for the first time in five years now, because five years ago Luke kissed him for the first time and it tasted like birthday cake and it shook him down to his core.

He sits down on a bench because he doesn’t really know where he is and he knows this is a bus stop because there’s a post right there declaring it but it doesn’t say which buses go by here and Michael doesn’t want to wait for a few hours just to find out he’s in some armpit. He pulls out his phone and calls Calum. He still lives on campus and he isn’t that far, he doesn’t think.

“Hey,” Calum says. “Everything okay?”

“Sort of, not really,” Michael says. “Can you come get me? I’m lost. I just need a ride back to my car.”

They spend the next few minutes figuring where Michael has gotten himself lost and Michael eventually finds a corner and sits down on the curb because he’s done an awful lot of walking today and he sort of wishes that he could have gone to that party.

Calum arrives in his car and starts driving Michael back to the beach to where his car is and he’s hoping to avoid another terrible situation like the day after Luke died.

“You sure you want to just go home? My roommate is away for the weekend, spending time with his family and stuff, you could spend the night with me and come back to get your car tomorrow,” Calum offers.

Michael is trying to figure out if he wants to or not because it sounds tempting. Away from home, with Calum.

“It’s his birthday. He wouldn’t want you to mope, come to mine.”

Michael nods. “Okay. That sounds okay.”

Dorms aren’t quite what Michael imagined, cramped and tiny and messy, but it’s okay and they watch a terrible movie and play a drinking game along with it, taking a drink every time they say something vaguely homophobic or ace-erasing. They’re a little buzzed by the climax of the film and Michael feels a little bit better now, even though it’s late and he forgot Luke’s birthday earlier.

The movie ends and they finish their drinks, Calum turning to Michael. “Are you feeling better?” He asks with so much genuine worry and concern.

“Yeah, for the most part,” Michael says.

“Cheers to Luke,” Calum says softly, handing him another drink and raising it.

“Cheers,” Michael echoes.

 

It’s hard when Michael gets invited to a wedding, a friend of his who he bonded with over a mutual hate of biology, and he’s told that he can bring his boyfriend if he wants. It’s an honest mistake and Michael doesn’t hold it against him but it still stings as he has to awkwardly fumble to tell him that there was no boyfriend anymore. It’s hard to get dressed up in the same suit he wore to his own mock wedding and Ben’s wedding and Luke’s funeral; it feels like the memories of the events leech into his skin as he puts it on and he aches for a new suit.

The wedding is great. Michael is sat with people he knows from university and it’s a good evening but it still hurts, especially during the slow song interlude where he watches nearly every couple dance together. He steps outside, thankful that there are other people congregated on the patio even though it’s been drizzling since he arrived to the reception and most of the people are smoking and he doesn’t even want to think about cigarettes.

It’s cleared up but it’s still cool out, the dampness hanging in the air and making the chill that much more striking; Michael feels bad for the girl he thinks is the bride’s cousin in a short dress, shivering and shooting jealous looks to every man with a suit jacket.

He steps out past the awning and he walks through puddles and he looks up at the sky, trying to forget the image of couples dancing at a wedding and not being one of them. He knows that this will happen a lot in the coming years as a young adult, that he’ll be invited to a lot of weddings and he’ll think of Luke every time and that horrible night. He just focuses on the stars, taking in Orion the way his father showed him when he was little and took him down to the beach in the middle of winter late into the night so they could watch a meteor shower. He’s never been able to puzzle apart the whole constellation like his dad showed him but he’s always been able to find the belt, the three bright stars that he could see out his window when he was falling asleep.

_Luke coughs as they get to the beach, leaning heavily into Michael’s grip as he helps him down towards the sand. It’s hard to manage it all, the blanket and the boy in his arms, but he’s dealing with it because this is what Luke wants and at this point, what Luke wants might as well be the word of God._

_“You sure you want to do this? It’s kind of cold and your fever wasn’t good last night,” Michael says as they step onto the sand._

_Luke nods. “’Course,” he says, looking up at him with a bright smile that disappears almost immediately as he coughs again. Michael worries for a moment that he could catch what Luke has but at this point, he doesn’t care._

_Michael remains unconvinced that Luke is okay but he’s hoping that the ocean air is good for him._

_“Here’s good,” Luke says, stopping. They’re not far from the concrete parking lot but they can see the ocean._

_Michael pulls away and lays the blanket down on the sand, sitting down and reaching for Luke. Carefully, Luke sits down and cuddles into him, letting out a sigh and Michael can tell that he’s trying to mediate his breathing so he doesn’t let on that he’s panting and Michael rubs his back._

_They sit and listen to the ocean, calming and cyclical and lovely. He knows that Luke is happy when he lays his head on his shoulder and lets out a happy sigh. After a few minutes, Luke lies back, pulling Michael with him and together they look up at the stars and the bright moon and everything beautiful about it._

_“How long do you think it would take to count the stars?” Luke asks, congestion and roughness audible in his voice._

_Michael hums, his eyes scanning over the sky. “I think it’s impossible,” he says. “You’d lose count.” They’re close to the city, though, so the amount of bright pinpricks in the sky isn’t as pronounced as it would be somewhere rural, somewhere without air pollution._

_“But what if, like, you took a picture of the sky from every angle and printed it out and ticked each one off as you counted it?” Luke asks. His eyes are fixated on the sky and he looks back at Michael when he’s finished speaking, the stars reflected in his beautiful blue eyes._

_“I think you’re overthinking it,” Michael says. He loves this, bantering with Luke a little bit because it’s like normal and it lets him forget that Luke’s got pneumonia and he’s going to die._

_Luke giggles which leads to him having a small coughing fit. “But how many stars are there?” He asks, looking back up at the sky._

_“Dunno. Why don’t you try counting them?”_

_Luke leans over, starting at the leftmost corner of the sky that he can see. “One, two, three…” He raises a hand to point at every star he counts and Michael follows his finger._

_Michael tries to follow, see which stars he’s pointing at, and he lets himself smile when he gets to Orion, the memory of stargazing with his dad coming to mind._

_“Fourteen, fifteen,” Luke counts, his voice getting rougher as he keeps speaking._

_“You counted that one already,” Michael prods. It’s mostly an effort to get him to shut up before he loses his voice two days before his brother’s wedding, where he’s expected to make a speech that will inevitably make everyone cry._

_“Oh,” Luke says, a pout appearing on his lips. “I want to know how many stars there are, though.”_

_Michael reaches into his pocket and pulls his phone out. He turns data on because he isn’t working so hard to conserve money anymore and he opens Google, typing in the questions “_ how many stars are there _”_.

_“The Milky Way has four hundred billion,” Michael reads off the screen. He scrolls a little more. “And the universe itself has an estimated one hundred octillion, or a one followed by twenty-nine zeroes.”_

_Luke looks at him, obviously working through those numbers._

_“And apparently visible to us is about five thousand,” he says. “Or twenty-five thousand because the earth obstructs half of them.”_

_“That’s so few,” he says softly. “Compared to one hundred quintillion.”_

_“Octillion,” Michael corrects, kissing his nose._

_Luke pouts again. “This is just like onomatopoeia.”_

Michael finds Orion again and thinks about the four hundred billion stars he’ll never see and the boy whose smile he’ll only find again in photographs.

 

Things get easier. Michael finishes another semester of university and though he thinks about Luke every time he sits down in his English class, he doesn’t cloud everything out and the healing process begins. He isn’t sure about getting his things from Luke’s room and his mum does it after a while, getting things that are obviously Michael’s, which is hard to figure out and she tries using their difference in size as a marker. She gives him one of Luke’s sweaters and it hurts but he doesn’t have the heart to correct her.

Michael gets dragged out on his twentieth birthday with Ashton and Calum. They take him for dinner and drinks and it’s really nice because it’s these two people who understand how he feels but they try to make a shitty anniversary and a day he would probably feel lonely better for him.

Once the semester is over, Michael and Calum plan on cleaning out Luke’s room. Liz and Andy haven’t made a decision about what they want to do with the room yet, if they want to keep it the way it is or if they want to turn it into something new, and Michael just wants to find all of his things again. He knows he’s missing a few t-shirts and he’s been aching to wear them. He wants to find his things and maybe it’ll make him feel a little bit better.

Calum offers to help and Michael takes him up on it, the both of them meeting at Luke’s house in early December when they’re out of school. They go back to his room after Liz confirms that if they want to take something, they can feel free to take it, and they start sorting. They start a bag for trash, things like old candy wrappers and the condom wrapper that didn’t make it into the trash. They put things that Michael is going to take on his bed, the pile of t-shirts and jeans and books he’s been missing.

“I still miss him every day,” Michael says softly, finding their last yearbook from high school. He pushes it in the direction of Luke’s bookshelf without opening it.

“Yeah. I can’t help thinking that it was an absolute privilege to get to love him, you know?” Calum says. “Like, imagine if he hadn’t moved or he hadn’t been friends with us or something.”

Michael fixates on the first part and he’s reminded of all the times when he was a kid and he got in trouble and his parents warned him that his privileges would be revoked if he continued acting the way he did. It sort of makes him wonder if Luke was a privilege to be revoked by some higher power and, if so, what he did to get him taken away.

“Michael?”

He looks over at Calum, clunking back into the realization that he’s here on earth where it’s questionable whether there’s a higher power willing to take people away just because of a mistake they made, scarring everyone including completely altruistic people who didn’t do anything wrong. He’s on a world where there’s sickness and health and Luke drew the short straw.

“Yeah, he was everything,” Michael replies quietly. Even the word everything feels like an understatement because Luke was an angel from the first time they met. Everything that he was and still is to Michael is too abstract to be confined to words.

“Think that we’ll ever stop missing him?” Calum asks softly, like he’s a little bit scared that they never will.

“I dunno,” Michael says. “I guess we’ll just learn how to live with missing him.”

They both look up as a book topples off Luke’s desk, landing on the floor. It’s a Kafka book, something Luke was reading for class, and Michael reaches over to pick it up while Calum chuckles nervously.

“That was kinda creepy. Believe in ghosts?” Calum teases.

“Don’t,” Michael laughs as he pulls the book close and lets the book fall open to where Luke had spread it apart the most. There’s a quote there, highlighted in bright yellow and outlined in blue ink.

_“Hold onto the delusion that you need me; think yourself more deeply into it. It won’t do any harm, you know, and if one day you want to get rid of me you will always have the strength to do so; but meanwhile you have given me a gift such as I never even dreamt of finding in this life.”_

Michael reads it a few times and smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quote from Franz Kafka is from Letters to Felice. please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


	52. mine for a night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's a shorty but a goodie. i really hope you enjoy it as much as i've enjoyed writing this story and posting it. i'm sad it's finally over, but every story has an end and even though i'd love to write about every trial and tribulation michael faces, i can't. and i want to write something all emotional but i'm really bad at that just know that i love you very much if you got this far in the story and commented and left kudos or even just bookmarked. thank you so so so much

After the incident in Luke’s room, Michael sees Luke in every breeze that blows his curtains and everything that falls, no matter how precariously it was perched. He tries to find him in the birds that crow at him on his way to school and the stray cat who’s been wandering around their street with the most pathetic meow. He jumps every time he sees someone with hair the same shade of sunshine blond that Luke was and he flinches when his next boyfriend calls him Mikey.

Slowly, things start to heal.

Ben and Christina have a baby. Jack gets married but he refuses to have a best man because he’d been planning on having Luke be his best man (in all technicality, he does have a best man but by title there isn’t one). Liz and Andy never really heal, Michael guesses, but they learn how to live with the holes in their hearts.

Michael dates a few people but his first relationship doesn’t work out and his second reignites his dalliance with cigarettes. He finishes school. He lets his blue hair fade.

 

Michael wakes up to the giggles of children from outside his door and his mind immediately flickers from May seventh to Izzy out in the hallway. He lifts his hands and rubs at his eyes. The bed next to him is cold and for a terrible moment, his heart plummets in panic that he’s nineteen again and he’s waking up alone and the sterile scent of hospitals assaults him in foggy memory. His hand travels to his hair quickly as he breathes, now very much awake, as he feels his thinning hair and his wedding ring connects with his forehead. Hospitals aren’t bad, he reminds himself. The last time he was in a hospital was because Spencer broke his finger.

From outside his door, there’s a shriek and a giggle and a deep chuckle. He isn’t just a kid anymore and he can breathe as he sits up out of bed, stretching his arms up and sagging in relief when his spine pops. He gets up out of bed, pulls on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt and pushes his feet into the slippers Harry got him last Christmas before he pads into the hall. Harry is tickling Izzy, their three year old daughter, and they both beam up at him.

“Daddy!” Izzy squeals, pulling away from Harry’s arms as he looks up and is momentarily caught off-guard.

“Good morning, honey,” Michael smiles, kneeling down to pull her in and press a good morning kiss to her hair.

“Papa said that we can have banana and chocolate chip pancakes today,” she beams.

“Is that so? Well, he must love you loads today, then,” he says, kissing her nose and smiling when she giggles.

They migrate down to the kitchen, where Charlotte and Spencer are watching early morning cartoons. Michael sits with them while Harry cooks breakfast and they eat together, banana and chocolate chip pancakes like Harry promised them. It isn’t until they’re cleaning up that Michael remembers he has something to do today other than spending his Saturday off with his husband and his three kids.

He kisses Harry’s cheek as he dries his hands. The griddle is put away and all the dishes are loaded into the dishwasher and Harry has brewed tea for himself. Any other Saturday, it would be the perfect time to settle down with his kids and his husband but today is May seventh and it isn’t so simple.

“I’ll be back in a bit just after I get dressed,” Michael says.

“You don’t have to do this, Mike,” Harry says, cradling the mug of tea close to his chest, using an unnecessary amount of fingers to hold it.

“I do,” Michael says, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him close. ‘Mikey’ hasn’t been used since the first boyfriend he had after Luke passed away and Michael freaked out.

“But why?” Harry asks, a drawling little whine in his voice.

“Because someone other than his mum has to remember him,” he murmurs.

Harry nods, still giving him a small pout but accepting a quick kiss. “Okay. I’ll see you when you get back, then. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Michael says.

He gets dressed and stops by a florist to get a bouquet of flowers, the same kind he’s always taken Luke, before he drives to the graveyard. On his way there, his phone vibrates in his pocket and he checks it when he parks. It’s from Calum.

_You’re going today?_

Michael taps back a quick, _Yeah_ , before he steps out of the car and finds Luke’s grave. There are flowers there already, a sign that Luke’s family has visited, and Michael puts his down too. It’s cool, it always is, it’s May, and he takes a deep breath.

So much has happened without Luke. Calum and Ashton got married and they adopted two little boys, Matthew and Logan. Michael settled down and he’s got his three kids. He learned, when they were born and as they started to grow, that being born is just being set upon a path to die and it made him not want to have children, terrified, but maybe having kids for selfish reasons and because Harry wanted them was okay.

All three of them have careers, somehow. Liz and Andy stayed together, even though Michael doesn’t see them as often. The Hemmings, for Michael, were just a last attempt at having Luke in his life and Michael was the same thing for him. As they healed, they let go of each other.

“Wish you’d been here to see all of this,” Michael murmurs. “You’d be an amazing parent.”

It’s hard, still. That they didn’t have enough time. But Michael’s moved on since, with his husband and his house full of kids.

If there is some sort of afterlife, he’s sure Luke and Pancake are waiting there to welcome him. Harry, too. He and Luke would get on like a house on fire once they got over their possessiveness of him.

He looks down at the headstone, reads it all, takes it in and remembers the person he loves more than anything, before he walks away with that memory of Luke waving at him shyly on the first day they met playing in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think with kudos, comments or come chat on [my tumblr!](mochalou.tumblr.com)


End file.
